


All Roads Lead to Rome

by spikes_heart



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-25 15:25:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 27,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/640297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikes_heart/pseuds/spikes_heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Chosen reunion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Buffy was getting pissed. Andrew had been home for less than a day and every time she wanted to discuss what had happened in Los Angeles, he pulled a vanishing act. She needed to know what was going on with Angel… how his new leadership in Wolfram & Hart could be used to aid team Europe, as she’d come to think of the new Watchers/Slayers gig, or if there were potential problems. All their research about W&H prior to Angel’s arrival had shown them to be overwhelmingly evil, with a capital E!

Spying Andrew scurrying past once more, Buffy called out to him. “Andrew, what's wrong? You seem awful avoidy. You know we really need to talk about your visit. It’s part of why we sent you there in the first place.”

Cringing as he stood his ground, Andrew said, “Nothing... must be jet lag. Can we talk later? I need my beauty sleep.”

Not wanting to scare him off, she tried to keep it light, teasing. “C'mon, you little weasel. You lie about as convincingly as Spike.” And look, she thought… hardly hurt that time… yeah, not much at all.

Squirming in place, Andrew replied somewhat cagily, “Buffy... what would you do if someone asked you not to tell something secret... but...it was a good secret... and he was hurting... and...”

Needing to stop the babble before she lost her mind, altogether, she said, “Andrew! Spill it already. Who are you talking about? And what’s this secret? Secrets are never of the good.” 

”Well... Buffy,” he hedged. “Remember how Spike went all dusty and combusty in the Hellmouth?”

Sniffling slightly, she replied, “And your point is?”

“He's looking better now,” Andrew whispered.

Buffy stared at him, seemingly unable to comprehend what she had just heard.

“Uh, Buffy... did you hear me?” asked Andrew.

Nothing… she just continued to stare, breathing shallow, eyes blinking slowly.

Andrew waved his hands wildly in front of her face. “Hello... Buffy, are you in there? 'Cause...”

Buffy shook her head, as though trying to clear cottonwool from her ears, then... “Andrew, would you mind repeating what you just said? And say it very slowly, 'cause I'm sure I heard you wrong.”

”I said, Spike's looking less... you know... ashy now.”

Concerned that he was a bit light on brain power, Buffy narrowed her eyes and demanded, “Did you have a Zima on the plane trip back? Are you out of your mind with drink and… and… lack of fresh air or something?”

Andrew practically bleated, “No, no! I swear! I'm completely sober! Just drunk on Spike! He's back - he's really, really back. All undead and all!”

Buffy couldn’t believe this:, “How... I don't understa... how? When?”

Andrew said, “I dunno. He and Angel...”

Voice verging on a shriek, Buffy managed to force the words out. **“ANGEL???** Angel knew Spike was back? And he didn't call me? Nobody called me??? I'll kill them both. _Again!”_

“Now, now Buffy... calm down... please...” Andrew begged. “You're turning purple! Not an attractive color for a Spring.”

Buffy sneered, “I'll be purple if I want to. Hell, I'll be multi-color. Technicolor, even!”

“A veritable palette of emotion!” Andrew sighed.

About to ask for the phone, she dropped her hand and said, “Forget the phone - I'll just get on the first plane I can. The new Council of Watchers will have to spring for it - it'll be deductible as a... as a... business expense... yeah... a researchy... thing!”

Being as helpful as he could, Andrew said, “Buffy... I called the airport - the jet is awaiting your arrival and they already have their flight plan for LA. Go... fly, little one. Reunite with your heart’s desire.”

Buffy smacked Andrew lightly on the shoulder. “Don't you dare call anyone to warn them. I'm gonna give them the same consideration they gave me. And when I get there... the fangs are gonna fly!”

”Don't worry, Buffy,” he promised. “I won't say anything here, either. My lips are sealed.”

Buffy raised a well-shaped brow and said, “Like you promised Spike, huh?”

”No, I swear,” he cried. “For the sake of true love!” he said, ducking another of Buffy's flying smacks, which missed this time.

”Well, don't know what I'll find over there, Andrew... but... but... thank you for being a lousy liar. And wish me luck.”

”Adieu, my VamPyre Slayer... there's an aching heart waiting for you in the belly of the beast,” Andrew murmured, once more, ducking, needlessly, this time.

As Buffy settled herself on the plane's soft cushiony seat, she leaned back, closed her eyes, and dared to breathe.


	2. The Eternal Internal Debate

Buffy couldn’t believe it. She was flying back to California… to LA. To freaking Wolfram and Hart. The Big Bad Evil law firm, run by her once true love. To see her once… what? What was Spike to her? Ex-lover? She couldn’t call what they did to each other love on her part… but definitely on his. 

A sigh escaped her lips. Regret for her own part in all that pain and suffering. Remorse for never bothering to see the man beneath her own prejudices. No matter. They’d mended their fences, healed most of their wounds. Never had the time for anything else. Death by glowy soul pendant precluded discovery of what could have been.

Her eyes snapped open as she came to a startling realization. She was actually going to see Spike. Spike who died. Well, died permanently in that dusty way. Again, well… not so permanently, obviously, since Andrew actually spent time with him. A severely injured Spike. My god… his arms… his hands! So much of Spike was in his hands. He had to be the most tactile being she’d ever known. He was always touching, stroking, feeling, rubbing, finge… erm… better stop now. Not a smart place to go. She considered the irony. Spike was almost destroyed by a slayer who wasn’t Buffy. Trying to save another slayer who WASN’T Buffy. She got a bit pissy then… thinking, mulishly, that he hadn’t bothered to call her to say he was back.

Buffy wondered just what her reaction would have been. She’d pick up the ringing phone, of course, and hear his dulcet tones say… what? “Hello Buffy, luv. I’m baaa-aaack!” All Jack Nicholsony. Had to giggle at the thought. Would she even have believed it was Spike? Maybe there was no easy way to do this. To let someone know you were back from the dead. She certainly had a hell of a time doing so. Crawled out of her own grave, alone and afraid. Wondered how it had been for Spike. Great! Another thing they had in common – a second death for all the right reasons and involuntary resurrection. Where had he been? Heaven? Was his sacrifice enough to change his path? Did he suffer, as she did? Was there anyone to help him? To comfort him? Could she or would she have been able to ease his way as he did hers, had she known he was back?

Shifting in her seat, Buffy added another piece to the puzzle. What was up with Angel? The new CoW had been doing research into just what Wolfram & Hart represented, especially now that Angel was at the helm. She was not a happy little camper, no sirree! Evil! Evil! Evil! It was screaming at her. What in god’s name had he been thinking? Was he thinking? Could he be trusted? Well, no, obviously… which was why she sent Andrew with the Barbie Brigade to collect Dana. It was just the not knowing that hurt her. Angel might not be her ‘be all, end all’ anymore… but she was always sure that he would do the right thing, choose the good path. Now? More grey areas in her life. And she wasn’t quite sure how much grey she was willing to cope with.

More than anything, she stewed about the radio silence regarding Spike. Buffy knew that things were volatile at best between the two vamps. Family history and all. She thought back on her little wrestling comment, a bottle of oil and a locked door. Smiling wickedly, she wondered just what all the real secrety books the CoW had hidden away spilled on her two vampires? Had they had their wicked way with each other? Demons with no inhibitions, and… they were certainly pretty, yes? Ah well… a girl could dream. And she had lots of time left before the plane landed in LA.

Shaking her happily drifting mind back to sharpness, Buffy decided to let the both of them have a piece of her mind. No way in hell was she gonna let it go. Forgiveness would NOT come easy from this woman. Nuh uh! Jeez, she wouldn’t let Spike go down the same path that Angel did, making decisions for her. Doing the ‘right thing’ without her input. She was too old for this shit. Really.

The big problem remained. What the hell was she going to do? How did she feel? How did Spike feel? Did he still love her? Could she love him? Would they still have that treasured trust they’d developed before everything went tits up? Bloody hell, it wasn’t going to be easy. She grinned wildly when she realized just what had gone through her mind. Already hearing Spike in her head. She felt a pleasant warmth suffuse her soul, and decided to let the questions come up as they may.

Spike was back.


	3. Thoughts

Lying in Wolfram and Hart’s infirmary bed gave Spike time to think. Too much time… too much thinking. He thought about the day’s events; Doyle’s vision that led him to LA’s Bedlam branch and his simultaneous arrival with Captain Forehead, his impulsive half-cocked rush to leap in and save the girl and the day, and the realization that this Dana was a psychotic Slayer of all creatures (and how he missed sussing that out on his own still had him floored.).

Spike’s thoughts drifted to Andrew. The little ponce had surprised him. In several ways. Showing up in the capacity of old Rupes’ Top Man was one thing, but his own reaction to being groped, fondled and cried over in front of everyone was the real kicker. Spike was touched beyond the telling of it that someone genuinely cared, and wasn’t afraid to show it. Someone who had seen the worst of him (images of his fangs sunk deeply into Andrew’s neck came to his soul’s regret)… someone who (more than) actively sought out his company… someone who took the time to talk and listen. Andrew was as close to a friend as he’d ever had, either as William or Spike. Not that he’d break down and hug the lad back… but it wasn’t as if he’d thrown him across the room, either.

Lying in Wolfram and Hart’s infirmary bed, Spike’s forearms continued to twinge, sending small frissons of pain throughout his system. He figured he should be grateful that he HAD arms to hurt at all… he’d been in serious danger of literally losing his grip on things for good. Not up on all the vamp lore, he wasn’t certain if a vampire’s amputated limbs had the ability to regenerate but he was grateful he’d not have to find out.

Angel. Spike’s thoughts drifted toward his GrandSire. What in the name of all he held dear was going on between them? Snarky repartee… check. Scowling glances… check. Not listening to each other… check. And yet? Something was changing, noticeably different. Spike had saved Angel’s unlife on several different occasions… first with that necromancer bloke (before he’d even been corporeal), and then over that sodding destiny fiasco. He’d not staked Angel, though the temptation was there… but thoughts of… no, not going there. Then, there was that scrawny bint, Eve, who had tried to turn Angel into psychedelic bug fodder. Spike shuddered at the thought of an unlifetime spent inside his own head. Too close having been lost inside his own head for comfort, that.

Spike had also been surprised with Angel’s behavior towards him. Had he actually tried to convince him that he was being reckless in going after Dana for his own safety? Not putting him down for being useless? As far as his squirrelly memory went, he remembered his enormous relief when Angel swooped in out of nowhere, like an Avenging spirit, to rescue him from the deranged Slayer. Too much pain and far too out of it to vocalize at the time, Spike knew he’d be thanking Angel for saving his arms and his unlife. See? Something had changed… neither of them had ever gone out of their way to rescue the other. They might not have been able to end each other’s existence for whatever reasons, but actively saving? A truly new development. And not as unsettling as it might have been.

Lying in Wolfram and Hart’s infirmary bed, thoughts of last night’s conversation with Angel came to mind. Hmmph.. yeah, conversation. A first, if Spike was honest with himself. The first time Angel actually spoke to him like an equal, and the first time Spike had actually listened and heard. Angel admitted his own sinful past – the enjoyment in deconstructing humans, psychologically and physically. How he went out of his way to cause torment and pain. His raison d’etre. Angel also admitted that Spike and he were different in that aspect. Spike knew himself, that he’d enjoyed the mayhem, and power… but was more a fists and fangs kind of vamp. Fight and feed, against all odds. None of this prolonged torture bollocks, especially against a child! Someone who couldn’t possibly fight back. Not that he hadn’t fed from and killed children, families, but… his head hurt from all that thought. Worse pains came from the knowledge that Dana had been tortured by an ensouled human, for no other reason than to cause pain. A ten year old child. Spike was revolted. What use was a soul, if it allowed that kind of... if it could be so easily overridden… no! Spike had to believe it all came down to choices.

Choices. He’d made some damned strange ones over the years. Yes, some by selfish necessity; showing up at the Watcher’s place after that thrice damned chip, for one. Putting himself in the hands of… damn it… not going there! Killing his own kind to satisfy his lust for violence. Backing up the Sla… again! He couldn’t believe it… every path, every decision seemed to lead to… Sighing heavily, he knew he’d have to think of her sooner or later.

Lying in Wolfram and Hart’s infirmary bed, Spike gave in to the inevitable, and let his thoughts drift to his Slayer. Yes, HIS Slayer. Always in his mind, always in his heart. Buffy might never love him as he’d wish, but in their last few days together, they’d come to an understanding. They trusted each other. Miracle of miracles. After what had gone down the previous year, culminating in that horror show in her bathroom, they’d reached a new level. They’d forgiven each other their trespasses. Fault was neither denied nor forgotten, but forgiven. Blessed forgiveness. It was worth everything.

Snorting to himself, he continued with his reverie. He’d told Andrew NOT to tell Buffy he was back amongst the living. He, himself, had not been able to go to her, call her, let her know he hadn’t perished. Truth be told, he was petrified. Petrified they’d not get back the closeness they’d only just achieved before his world-saving immolation. Terrified they’d attempt a relationship and fail, and lose each other for good. His cowardice shamed him.

He… oh gods! He bolted upright… Andrew! Who was he kidding? Andrew would NEVER be able to keep his gob shut. Spike closed his eyes, and took in a deep, unneeded breath. He could feel it. There was a disturbance in the force, and thinking in Andrewisms was proof positive.

Something was about to happen that would rock the status quo to its foundations.


	4. Falling

Falling from honor. Falling in love. Falling for a line. Falling on your ass. Falling from grace. Falling down the rabbit hole. Falling from favor. Free-falling. Angel constantly feels like he’s falling. Even in his dreams… falling. He’s petrified of what’s going to happen when he stops.

Thinking back on the past day, Angel sighed. It’d been difficult on everyone, to say the least. He was no longer sure of anything – all his decisions seemed to be of the “lesser of two evils” variety, instead of right/wrong. If he heard the words “grey area” just one more time…!

As he sat in his grand office, in his buttery soft leather chair, he ran his hands through his hair… and thought of… no, not now… can’t think… something else. He’s so tired. The lack of sleep is not doing him any favors. Remembered Andrew coming into his office. Giles’ Top Man. With a snort, he thinks he’s really getting too old for this… but immediately dismissed the thought, as it brings his mind back to… damn! Can’t get away from him. Has to try harder.

Eyes closed, he sees Dana, ranting away, her diatribe a mixture of so many different languages. All harsh, all invectives. Struggling to free herself, struggling to find herself. Nobody said a soul was proof positive of exemplary behavior, and his own weighs heavily.

Headache screaming now, he tried to massage his temples, and was inevitably drawn to the one person he’d been trying to blank out… and he finally gives in. Spike. SPIKE! Will. Stupid, arrogant, half-cocked upstart destiny usurper. Or was it always about him? Never about Angel in the first place? Prophesy can drive you nuts.

Head in his hands, Angel breathed. Deep, cleansing breaths. Trying to stop from screaming breaths. Remembering the old days… the early days of William. Dru brought the simpering brat home… but he quickly… well… He remembers Will’s hands. Rather slim fingered, delicate hands. He remembers his fingers wrapped around a stylus, holding the binding of a favored book, brushing Dru’s hair, wrapped around his… STOP! He doesn’t want to remember anymore, but when he remembers Spike’s hands on the workshop table, he was sure he would have vomited, if he were capable.

It’s tearing him apart… the mission, what is the mission? His friends, colleagues, his grandchilde, his… son. He carries that burden alone, but feels the situation threatening to crack wide open at any moment. It’s not a peaceful feeling. He wonders if his newly protective feelings towards Spike have bled over from missing Connor. Seems he’s gonna be a father if it kills both Spike and himself.

Warning Spike off about chasing after the impaired slayer… makes him feel foolish, now. Once known as the Slayer of Slayers, Spike’s more the Slayer’s… well, he REALLY doesn’t want to go there. Caught Spike in the middle of his swan dive from the factory, remembers listing to him prattle on, something about a Chinese dragon demon, or elemental something or other – pretty much tuned it out as white noise. Spike never did shut up. Always yammering.

But tonight… in the small infirmary bed, in the softly shadowed room, it was different. He and Spike had an actual conversation. Angel could actually see Spike as he got it. Understanding hit those expressive features like a brick wall. So subdued, so quietly despairing… trying to cope with what he had done and the trail of victims left behind. Empathizing with them on a personal level for the very first time. Gods, did he feel for his boy… and yes, after all these years he had to admit to it. HIS boy. Dru was no Sire. When all was said and done, Angel was very glad to have been able to rescue Spike from a worse fate.

Gods, he wishes he could just go to sleep for a week. That would possibly make a dent in his sleep deprived state. Should check with the lab... see if maybe they removed his sleep by accident? Nobody could be this tired, and still be expected to function. Wished he could delegate all that damned paperwork, but can’t trust anyone to do it for him.

And that’s the final straw – the one breaking his back. Trust, or rather, the lack of trust. From Buffy. No longer his Buffy… but maybe Spike’s? She doesn’t even know he’s alive… um, back, whatever. He wondered idly if Andrew… nah, not gonna happen. Spike made him promise to let him call at his own pace, in his own time.

He’d worry about it another time. He might actually be falling asleep.


	5. Troubled Waters

The storm buffeting the plane as it made its approach to LAX didn’t bode well for Buffy. Her mood matched the weather. The closer they got to LA, the more agitated she became. She was nervous about seeing Spike, she was nervous about running into Angel. Wolfram & Hart, itself, was giving her fits. Add a full-blown case of PMS, and no wonder her teeth were on edge. God help the first man, woman or demon that impeded her search.

When the shaking finally stopped, and the plane landed, Buffy almost cried with relief. Her tension was palpable. She absentmindedly smoothed the wrinkles from her outfit; tight black leather pants, red silk blouse and, of course, Jimmy Choo boots. The idle thought came to mind that she had dressed for Spike, in his colors. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and tried to think of that saying… she needed to do something… oh yes! That was it. She needed to ‘gird her loins,’ even though she wasn’t sure exactly how you ‘girded.’

Her destination in hand, Buffy deplaned and hailed a cab. She wasn't sure how far Wolfram & Hart was from the airport, but she had a pocketful of Council of Watchers cash and the driver seemed to know where he was going. Good enough.

Standing in front of the massive W&H building, Buffy took those agonizing last steps and pushed open the lobby doors. She walked to the Reception Desk, all her Spidey senses tingling. When the woman looked up to greet her, they were both absolutely gobsmacked. Spike would be so proud of her for actually getting the word right in context. “Harmony! What the hell are you doing here?”

Harmony tried to stay cool. She and Buffy hadn't been friends in high school, but still, it was nice to see a familiar face. She also tried to be professional, because that was her job. “Hey, Buffy! Nice to see you… oh, and by the way? Thanks so much for saving the world, ‘cause you know, if you hadn’t? Then, like… we wouldn’t be here, and I wouldn’t have this terrific job. I’m Angel’s personal assistant, you know… and…”

Buffy cut her off before the blathering made her ears bleed… and Angel’s name was as good a place as any. “Harmony, I need to see Angel… where is he?” Harmony seemed pretty hyper, and Buffy needed to get on with this. She could see Spike in her mind’s eye, bouncing on the balls of his feet with impatience; hear him muttering words like ‘bint’ and ‘bloody hell’ with perfect clarity. Gods, she missed that! Gathering her wits about her, Buffy said, “Bloody hell, Harmony… just tell me where I can find Angel!!!

Harmony stopped her twittering and had the strangest expression on her face. Shocked wouldn’t be inappropriate. She just pointed towards the bank of elevators in the rear of the Lobby, and Buffy was off like a shot. 

There was a directory posted to the left of one of the cars, and Buffy scanned it for Angel’s office. She stepped into the next available elevator, pushed the button and took another calming breath as the door closed. Soon, she thought… soon… what? She really had no clue as to how this was going to pan out.

Stepping out onto the third floor was impressive. Lots of lovely, plush carpeting… but no people. Empty. “Hello! Is anybody there?” she called. It seemed to echo in the empty halls. Empty offices, light streaming through impressively sized windows. No place for a vampire to hide.

Feeling that little warning tingle in the back of her neck, Buffy spun around to come face to chest with an extremely familiar patch of red silk. Looking up, she was confronted with a green skinned, red horned, red eyed, smiling demon. Dressed in her outfit- minus the kicky boots – right down to the black leather pants! Buffy lost it. The giggles started deep in her gut and just bubbled out of her, loud and strong.

Amused, Lorne said, “Hey there, you delightfully dressed petite four. You seem to be in a good mood. My name’s Lorne. What can I do for you?”

Only in LA, Buffy thought, would you find a demon with her fashion sense. Trying to stop laughing enough to speak, Buffy said, "Hi, I'm Buffy, and I need to speak with... "

Lorne’s demeanor changed immediately. “Oh, crumpet, the vamp you're searching for isn't here right now."

"You know me?" asked Buffy.

"Hells bells, sweetness... everyone knows you! Buffy... THE Slayer who saved the world!”

Buffy's face crumpled at that, and she began to sob... quietly at first... then deep, stomach wrenching wails.

At the sound of the woman’s distress, Wesley came running out of his office. “Lorne, what’s the… Buffy? Is that you, dear?”

At the sound of her name, Buffy’s tear streaked face looked up into the kindly blue eyes of someone she couldn’t quite place… and then realized it was her old new Watcher. But what a difference a couple of years had made! No longer the tweedy little nerd, but a more ruggedly handsome and weary version of the man she once despised.

“Wesley? Is that you? My god, I’d have passed you by in the street!” Sniffling, she accepted his extended hand and stood up.

“It seems as if time has changed us all, Buffy. What brings you here to Wolfram & Hart? Are you looking for Angel? Why are you crying?” Wes would have said more, but the sound of a throat being cleared behind them stopped him cold.

Angel!

Buffy swiped at her eyes, drying the tears, and turned around… sudden anger screaming from her every pore. The face she turned on Angel wasn’t one of sweetness and light, and everyone quailed before her. A Slayer pissed was a formidable sight, indeed.

“Hello, Angel. Long time no see,” she spat. “Anything new?”

If at all possible, Angel paled before her. She was certainly a vision… dressed like a miniature version of Spike; all black leather and red silk.

Buffy continued. “So… how’ve things been since I left California? I’ve met some interesting new Slayers… all over Europe. Been a busy little bunny. How about you? Meet anyone new and interesting? Old and annoying? How’s the family?” Buffy was gunning for him, and didn’t seem to be running out of ammunition any time soon.

"We've spoken on and off for the past half year, Angel... are you sure there isn't anything you might have neglected to mention? Something that I might have been interested in hearing? Someone I might have wanted to drop by and see?"

The venom was just dripping off of each syllable, and Lorne and Wes were paralyzed... couldn't have looked away had they wanted to. Angel shook his head slightly, snapping out of his daze. Walking towards her, he said, “Buffy… can we take this into my office? There’s a lot we need to discuss, and it’s really not appropriate to…”

At his attempt to herd her into the privacy of an office, Buffy pulled away and screamed. “Who the bloody hell do you think you are, Angel? Lord and Master of all you survey? Owner of lives? Maker of paths? Where the fuck do you get off keeping something as HUGE as Spike’s resurrection a secret from me? Don’t even get me started on how pissed off I am at the Bleached Menace, himself, for not calling me, but…”

A light went on in Buffy’s head, stopping her speech, cold. “You never told him where I was, did you? He had no clue how to reach me! You were manipulating everyone, weren’t you? Why do you have to be such a damned control freak? I’m not sixteen anymore, Angel. I can and do make my own decisions on a daily basis. I make decisions for all those new Slayers, Angel. Where the hell do you get off playing God with us all?” Buffy broke at that, the tears starting again, in earnest.

Flinching from Angel’s touch, Buffy turned to Lorne… for some reason she derived immense comfort from his embrace. “There, there, crumpet… it’ll be fine. Calm down, and let the gelled one try and explain.”

Silently, Buffy straightened and followed Angel into his office, locking the door behind them. Her bout of hysteria over for the moment, she was willing to listen to what Angel had to say before tearing into him again. Trying hard to contain her anger, she said, “Fine, Angel. Tell me. Tell me why you’ve gone all closed-mouthy on me. Why you kept Spike’s resurrection from the last person to have seen him as he burned to ash!” Buffy’s voice raised in volume as she tried to tamp down her urge to shake Angel to within an inch of his unlife. Crossing her arms primly over her chest, she settled back in the chair for him to begin.

Angel took an unneeded breath and began the saga of Spike. He told Buffy all about the amulet arriving in an unmarked envelope, Spike’s emergence as a spectral figure, told her of how Spike had asked about her and the others immediately, his brush with hell, the efforts involved in recorporealizing him. Of course, he left out the bits about how he hadn’t personally gone out of his way to help his wayward grandchilde; she’d have known, anyway. He apologized for not letting her know… claiming that he didn’t want her upset all over again if Spike had slipped away for good. Mentioned the Shanshu prophesy, the false Cup of Eternal Torment, and the fact that Spike no longer resided at W&H.

Her eyes glazing over as Angel went on and on, Buffy snorted delicately. And she thought her life was a soap opera… man, Angel was describing a Fellini movie! Trying to keep all the facts straight, she said “Fine, Angel. So life’s been a living hell. Been there, done that, have all the freaking t-shirts. Just tell me why I haven’t…”

At that moment, there was a loud commotion from the hallway, and both Angel and Buffy turned towards the doors as they fell from their hinges. They heard him before they saw him…

“What the bleedin’ hell is going on, Angel?” came from the bleached blond tornado in black leather. Saying he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Buffy sitting there would have been an understatement.

Buffy got up from the chair, and slowly walked over to the agitated vampire. Staring deeply into his shocked eyes, she raised her hand to his face, lovingly caressed his pronounced cheekbones, then drew back and slapped him as hard as she could.

Lorne and Wes had silently crept into the office to stand with Angel. All three stared at the double blond vision in black leather and red fury.

Spike brought his hand to his cheek, hardly feeling the sting. “At least you didn’t go for the nose, luv,” he said, as he opened his arms to enfold his weeping Slayer into his embrace.

Pulling back from the cradle of sanctuary she'd never thought to find again, Buffy whispered, "How, Spike? How could you not let me know?" Waiting for his answer, once more wrapped in Spike's protective hug, Buffy asked the other question that had been tickling the back of her mind. "Spike? How do you feel? Andrew told me what happened to you... what Dana did... oh God, Spike... are you all right?"

Grinning like a madvamp, Spike held up his hands and said, "Look Buffy - everything up my sleeves!" The other answer, to Buffy’s “How?” would have to come at another time. 

No room left for rational thought, he nuzzled into Buffy’s neck, breathing in her familiar scent, and closed his eyes. For the moment, he was in Heaven, and everything else faded into oblivion.


	6. Paths Unclear

**Ahem**

To Spike’s ears, it sounded like a gunshot. Obviously, he had forgotten he and Buffy weren’t alone. He could choose to ignore the git and continue to snuggle Buffy. Had a certain appeal, for sure. However, the little tingles in his arms made moving a smarter idea. Still not totally healed, but Spike thanked whatever powers above he could for the ability to hold and feel the woman in his arms. Slowly, he nudged Buffy’s head from under his chin, and they stepped apart.

They looked up and saw varying degrees of discomfort and amusement on an office full of people. Spike thought, with a chuckle, that Angel looked decidedly constipated. Wes stood behind his shoulder, obviously feeling sympathy for his friend, and interested in the couple. Lorne was fairly glowing with happiness for them both, but it could have been his radioactive complexion. Security was there; someone must have called in response to the doors slamming to the floor. Harmony was there, because she was a very nosy little bint, mouth making a little moue, so as not to spoil her lipstick. Charlie was smiling broadly… think he was looking for a possible throw down. Fred was smiling her sweet little smile. Spike was sure she was happy for him, but he could sense an underlying melancholy.

**Ahem**

This time, Buffy said, “Angel! Enough already. Don’t you owe us a moment? Last time I saw Spike he was rather busy making with the inner glow. I just… want… I just need to make sure that he’s actually here. That I’m not going to wake up screaming and alone again. Let me tell you, nightmares of telling someone you love the…”

Utter silence. The people who did breath, stopped.

Spike gasped, looking directly at Buffy for the first time. There she stood, his little vision in red and black. He tilted his head, smiling at her quietly… waiting for her to continue. Whatever she was going to say was going to make all the difference to his world.

Regrouping, Buffy continued. “Okay… that took me by surprise, so I can imagine you’re all pins-and-needley waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

There was a small snicker from Spike. He could just hear the collective eyeballs rolling as Buffy mixed her metaphors. He knew her grammar gaffs were a put-on, she just didn’t choose to be all anal about it.

“Before Spike died, I told him I loved him. He said I didn't, but thanks for saying it. There was no time to argue or anything. He made me leave, he went poof, and Sunnydale collapsed.” Buffy paused, looking at Angel, who was grimly staring at his desk blotter.

Realizing that conversation had stopped, and everyone was looking at him, Angel said, “Please… continue, Buffy. I suppose it’s all got to come out, and now is as good a time as any.”

Sighing, Buffy began again. “Well, in a way, Spike was wrong. It had taken me 3 years to tell him I loved him, from the time he first said he loved me. I never said a word to him I didn’t feel, and that included some rather ouchy words I will never, ever say again. Not to him. He was also right, in that I wasn’t IN love with him. Slight difference, but all important.”

“Spike and I have had about the rockiest relationship possible, with the possible exception being that little interlude with Angelus.” Taking a breath, Buffy looked up and saw Angel’s pained expression, but forged on. She wasn’t sparing anyone anything today. It was too important that everything come out in the open. “Started with chaining me up and promising to off Dru if I’d want it, if I’d tell him I felt something for him. Oh yeah. I felt something… had him disinvited from my house for it.”

“I never told him that his expression when he hit the barrier at the door almost broke my heart. He looked like a little lost boy.” Buffy smiled softly at that.

“Oi! Was the Big Bad, then… mostly. Didn’t do the lost boy routine.” Spike gritted out through his clenched teeth.

“Yuh huh,” said Buffy. “I remember everything. I’ve had the past 6 months to try and grasp every single moment we’d spent together and cherish each one, since it was all I had left.” Rounding on Spike, she said, “And by the way, Mister… you have a whole lot of ‘splaining to do. Like why you’d never bothered to call me once you became all non-ghosty. Don’t think I’ve forgotten you never answered me.”

For the moment, Spike stopped his complaining and said, “Yeah, pet. I know. We have to talk. Lots to say, I get that.”

”Right. We do, Spike. You and me, me and Angel, you and Angel, Angel and us. Whole bunches of talk to be had. Soon.” With that, she smiled softly at him, and then turned back to her audience.

“Thanks to Angelus, I never really fully trusted another guy again, until I met Riley. Suddenly, I had someone who understood the demon part of my world, and I thought we could work together, and love together. Hah! That worked out so well.”

“Sing out, pet!” came from a very amused Spike.

“Down, Spike!” growled Buffy, “Let me continue or we’ll be here, talking, all night.”

Angel could be heard snickering quietly, and Buffy said, “Same goes for you, Brood Boy. Still have lots of words you need to hear.” She glanced around the room, daring anyone else to comment.

“Little did I know that Riley was part of the Initiative. They took great delight in systematically eliminating all demon life in Sunnydale. At the time, I agreed with them. From what I had been taught, demons equal bad. Black and white. Simple. Formula worked every!single!time. Nobody ever figured Spike into that formula, though. He screwed it all up. Always had. Starting with Acathla. Soulless demon, saving the world. Did not compute.” Buffy shook her head, fondly.

“Getting back to the Initiative… turns out they had captured Spike, and as you all know, there was that whole behavior modification chip business. Once again, the formula went out the window when Spike came to us for help. He was half starved and hurting, and for some reason trusted us enough not to dust him on sight. God knows why, it would have been so easy to take out the most dangerous threat I’d faced in years.”

At that, Spike looked at her with the most delighted expression. “Why pet, I do believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve said about me in ages.”

“Shut up, Spike,” came the giggly rejoinder. “Anyway… to make a long story possibly longer, Spike ended up staying with Giles, then eventually Xander. He found out he could kill demons without setting off the chip, and usually went patrolling with us. I never did tell him what a huge load off my back it was to have him along. Feel pretty shitty about that, but again, it’s in the past.”

“Oh yeah, the whole point of this part is Riley. Thought things were great… found out they weren’t. He couldn’t handle the whole Slayer gig – the being stronger and more capable at demon killing bit. Freaked out when he found out that Angel was my first boyfriend, and a vampire. Had conniptions when he found out that Spike, Hostile 17 to him, was helping us out, AND had developed feelings for me, AND I hadn’t staked him.”

“One night, Spike made me follow him to a vamp brothel, and showed me that Riley had been getting suck jobs from vamp ho’s. His excuse? They needed him. I didn’t. I made him feel like less than a man, and he wanted to see what I found so appealing about demons. Cripes!” She shivers at that… it wasn’t the best of times for her.

“Anyway, my mom was ill, Dawn showed up, Spike wouldn’t leave me alone and then…then there was Glory… Glorificus, the Hellgod.”

“Turns out Dawn was a dimension-busting, mystical glowy key in little sister form, and Glory wanted to use her to collapse the walls separating the dimensions. Made Acathla seem tame. During all this, Mom died, Spike was still there, helping and being annoying; never stopped trying to stick himself into the middle of things, hoping I’d see him as something other than demon. He’d stopped trying to kill me and mine for months, by then. Mom loved him, in case you didn’t know. I used to come home and find him having hot chocolate with her. Freaked me out mostly, ‘cause she didn’t particularly like Angel. Just couldn’t wrap my head around that one. She knew Spike for who he was, soulless, demon, man. Wish I’d actually listened to her once in a while.”

Buffy looked so small and sad, that Spike couldn’t take it any more. He went to her side, and slipped his arms around her waist, then dropped a chaste kiss on her head.

Gathering strength, Buffy continued “For some reason, Glory’s minions thought Spike was the key, and took him to Glory. Hellbitch tortured him for hours. We had to storm her hideout to try and prevent Spike from telling Glory that Dawn was the key. I was so sure he’d rat her out. Always so sure to think the worst of him. Had plenty of reasons to believe he would. He surprised us all. Told Glory nothing, and he was just this side of dusting. It was the first time I realized he meant what he was saying. That he actually cared about us to some extent. I did kiss him then… in thanks, nothing much… but he said it meant everything.”

“I know I’ve been going on and on, but it’s important. You have to know. You have to see Spike as I’ve learned to.”

It was absolutely silent in the office, all eyes focused on the Slayer and the Vampire. Huddled together, a perfectly matched pair. They ‘fit’ together like they’d been made from one piece split in two. They glanced into each other’s eyes, clasped hands, and Buffy spoke again.

“Glory was relentless. She destroyed Tara’s mind, and ended up chasing us out of Sunnydale. Spike managed to find an RV, and we attempted to escape. Of course, Glory found us, kidnapped Dawn for her freaking ritual. Found out she needed to bleed her to open the portal. Giles was all set to kill Dawn to prevent the ritual, but Anya pointed out that all we had to do was delay it. There was only one chance at a certain time for this ritual to work. I wasn’t gonna let ANYONE harm a hair on Dawnie’s head, so I turned to the strongest person I knew to help me.”

Another glance at Spike, and more story. “Spike and I went back to my house, to load up on weapons. He was sorta quiet… told me to hand them over the threshold. I had completely forgotten about the disinvite. Gods, you should have seen his face when I let him in. He would have taken Glory out singlehandly for me had I asked. Again, told me he knew I didn’t love him, but I treated him like a man, and for him... that was enough.”

“I knew in my heart that we weren’t all going to come out of this fight, and I made Spike promise me to defend Dawn if anything happened to me.” Looking at Spike, she asked, “What was it you said, Spike? Exactly?”

“I said, ‘to the end of the world, even if it happens to be tonight.’ I meant it with all my heart, Buffy… so sorry I couldn’t…”

Buffy stopped him with a slight kiss to his cheek. “Spike, you did all you could. You did more than I could have expected of anyone else. Shhh.”

“Anyway… suffice it to say that Glory was stopped. Unfortunately, some demon called Doc managed to bleed Dawn after all, after throwing Spike off the top of the tower Glory’s minions had built. I got up there too late. Threw Doc off the tower, got to Dawnie, but it was too late. The portal was opening. Dawn was going to jump, it was awful. She was resigned to dying. I realized that she was made from me… same blood in the veins, and all. I know there’s a lot I’ve not explained, but you don’t need the info to follow this. Anyway, I had been told that “Death was my gift” by the First Slayer on a vision quest I had undertaken. I knew then that the only thing to do, was to jump, letting MY blood seal the portal.”

Spike’s fingers tightened around her own, and she could feel him silently sobbing. She just hugged him tighter. The worst was almost over.

“I told Dawn to tell Giles that I had figured it all out. I was fine with my decision. I could do what I had to. Most of all, I told Dawn that she needed to live for me. All my friends. That the hardest thing to do was live, and they needed to go on, for me. I jumped, knowing my time was over. I’d be fulfilling my purpose, and the world would be saved. Dawn and all my friends would be fine. It was enough for me.”

If Spike hadn’t been supporting Buffy, she would have collapsed. She looked haggard, but she needed to finish.

“Next thing I knew, I was trying to breath, lying down in a closed box. Ended up digging my way out of my own coffin.” She shuddered and said, “Ended up fighting my way through Sunnydale, not sure of where I was, or what was happening. Found Dawn, who ended up leading me back home. Cleaned up, changed clothes, heard Spike bellowing for Dawn from downstairs.”

“I walked slowly down the stairs, and when Spike looked up and saw me… realizing it was actually me, returned from the dead and buried, and not the Buffybot…”

“Buffybot?” came from Angel and Wesley.

“Don’t worry about it – one day I’ll fill you in on everything,” said Buffy. “As I was saying… when Spike realized it was me, I thought he had gone catatonic. The awe in his face would have lit up the night sky. He saw my bleeding knuckles and knew what I had done. He offered to clean them for me, when my resurrectionist friends burst into my house. Blah blah blah, and I found out that they had thought I was in hell, and ‘saved’ me from eternal hellfire and torment.”

“Basically, every moment back was sheer torment. I was in heaven, and they pulled me out. Only place I could find any solace was at Spike’s crypt. He didn’t ask, he didn’t judge, he didn’t insist I be shiny, happy Buffy. It was good. It was more than good. We talked, we were friends, we just connected… then I fucked it all up.”

“Luv, that’s not right,” Spike insisted. He was heartbroken. Again, sweet cheek kisses, and Buffy sssh’d him.

“Spike… this is it. The real truth, and nothing but. I was depressed, and became abusive. I couldn’t even tell my friends what they had done to me, so I took out all my frustrations on Spike. I beat him down mentally, I smacked him down, I fucked him. Led him on, and hurt him over and over again, because I was just dead. Didn’t think much more of him, either. Dead, soulless creature, and he was more alive than I was. I was more a monster than he was.”

“He tried to save me when I’d been framed for the murder of a girl. How did I repay him? I beat him to within an inch of his final death. Never told him I had found out who actually murdered the girl, never told him I was sorry. Never even looked to make sure he got out of the alley where I’d left him before the sun rose. If there is anything in this world that I am ashamed of, it was that night. Gods, Spike… how you can even look at me is beyond my understanding sometimes.”

Both of them were sobbing out loud now; all Spike could do was hold onto her, as she finished her tale.

“I’d begun to get my bearings again, decided I wanted to live. Stopped going to Spike for escapist sex; using him. I’d done that several times before, saying no… coming back. Fucking with us both, actually, but this time I meant it. It’s not that I didn’t feel anything for him, it’s that I wouldn’t allow it to be real. I was worried about the reactions of the Scoobies. Just wasn’t strong enough to assert my own wants and needs. I told Spike he had to move on, that whatever he felt was real, but just to him.”

“Turns out the nerd trio had bugged most of Sunnydale, including the Magic Box. Spike went to Anya for a forgetting potion, ended up polishing the table with her, caught in 100% Technicolor thanks to a video camera. We’d all seen it on Willow’s laptop… she had been tracking the paths of all the bugs. Xander flipped, and went after Spike with my axe. My relationship with Spike came out when I wouldn’t allow Xander to kill him, everyone was devastated. I ran off, as usual.”

“Blah blah blah, Spike came to apologize to me for hurting me, even though I had told him to move on, I admitted I cared for him, just didn’t trust him enough to ever love him. He pushed a little, I pushed him away. It was an old dance. He just didn’t realize I actually meant no this time.”

Angel’s growls could be heard from across the room.

“Angel, knock it off, and bear with the rest of this. Trust me, it’s hard enough to tell knowing the whole story. I’m fine. Never was hurt physically.”

“As I was saying… Spike got a bit physical, I threw him off and, as upset as I was, I could see the devastation on his face. I told him that’s why I could never love him… couldn’t trust him, when in truth, I had been to blame as much as he for letting things get so out of hand.”

Gathering the remnants of his strength, Spike said, “I had to leave. I’d done the one thing I’d sworn I’d never do. I hurt the girl. Hurt the woman I’d loved. The damned chip wouldn’t let me be a monster, and I couldn’t be a man. Had to change. Couldn’t let something like this happen again. I ended up seeing a Shaman in Africa, fought his trials and won, and had my soul returned to me. Drove me bug shagging crazy.”

Buffy smiled at him, grateful for his taking over the storytelling.

“Somehow, I ended up in the Sunnyhell High basement, and, as Angel is fond of reminding me, spent three weeks out of my mind. Doesn’t seem to know about the weeks of being used as The First’s bitch, murdering innocents and not remembering. Being rescued by Buffy, staying with Xander, and let me tell you, ducks, that was torture in its own right. Living with people who hate you, mistrust you. You’d think I’d be used to it. Don’t mean it didn’t sting.”

“Actually knocked down a wall and bit Andrew at one point. Found myself manacled in Buffy’s basement. Tried to get her to kill me. Told her of all the horrid things I’d done, told her not to trust me in a house full of potential slayers. Kill me while she could, evil thing that I was. And what does the silly cow do? Tells me she’s seen me change, tells me that she believes in me.”

“Was then kidnapped by the Bringers, bled to open the Seal of Danthazar and raised the bloody Turok’an. Don’t know how long before Buffy rescued me again, only thing that kept me going was that she believed in me… I was worth something, that she’d come for me. And she did, and we fought, and with the lovely Elizabeth Taylor accessory so kindly provided by Angel, closed the bleedin’ Hellmouth.”

Buffy nodded her head, agreeing with all Spike had said.

She took up the narrative. “And you know the rest. We stopped by LA before heading for London, we all did our thing, and nothing was out of the ordinary until Andrew came back from his visit with Dana, the other day. Kept his promise to Spike for all of 5 minutes in my presence. I got pissed off, got the next flight I could, and here I am. Instant Scheherazade!”

“Don’t quite know where this is leading to. Haven’t had the time to actually speak with Spike alone yet, but I can tell you this. I do love him. With all my heart. I trust him with my life, my sister’s life, and the lives of everyone on this planet. He’s more than proven himself to me. It should be good enough for everyone else.”

“Spike, we need time to see just where we are, what we are, to each other. If you’re willing… I wanna do this right. We need to spend time with each other. We’ll work something out. Are you game?”

Turning to face her, Spike was speechless. He grasped her hands, brought them to his lips, and kissed them gently. He released them, lifted her face gently, and kissed her with all the enthusiasm he could muster.

Neither of them heard the catcalls and applause from most of their audience.


	7. These Are the Times that Try Men's Souls

“Damn that infernal Rowling woman!” Giles swore out loud, scaring some of the young Slayers roaming the halls. Striding angrily through the new Slayers Academy, he found himself ranting out loud. “No matter how many times I correct people, no matter how much advertising goes out… I cannot escape the Academy being referred to as ‘Hogwart’s!’ He ran his fingers through his hair, convinced there would be more in his hands than on his head by the time he reached his office.

Time for his meeting with Andrew… a debriefing of sorts, and he couldn’t wait for Buffy to sit in with them. Nobody was happy over the fact that Angel had attained a position of power inside the evil law firm of Wolfram & Hart. No matter how much trust he had placed in the souled vampire over the years, he had never forgotten, nor forgiven him his part in ruining Buffy’s life and the death of his beloved Jenny. Nobody would be happier than he to tear that final veil from Buffy’s eyes, and forever rid her of her vampire attraction. Ripper had nothing on Giles in the grudge-keeping department.

Rounding the final bend, Giles entered his office, to see Andrew doing an almost giddy little jig around the room. Oddly enough, he was… was he actually whistling “Oh What A Beautiful Morning?” What the bloody hell had gotten into the lad?

Stepping quietly into the room, he managed to tap Andrew sharply on the shoulder. With an amused expression on his face, he began, “Andrew, this is no way for a Junior Watcher to behave, especially in the office. What’s up with you, man?”

Andrew’s hands fluttered like birds’ wings for a moment, and he looked for all the world like a Victorian woman suffering from the vapors. When he had collected himself, he replied, “Sorry Mr. Giles. You caught me by surprise. I’m just so happy. Really… just can’t help expressing myself. I feel light enough to fly under my own power, just like Superman.”

“So, son… just what is it that has you flitting all over the place, singing like a lunatic?” Giles repeated patiently, “and where is Buffy? This is an important meeting.”

Taking a few short breaths, Andrew said, “Well… um… Buffy’s not here right now.”

Feeling his vaunted patience growing thinner by the minute, Giles removed his glasses and began to polish them, an unconscious habit well known to all who spent more than an hour’s time around the Senior Watcher. “Andrew! I can see that. I’m not blind you know. I need to know when Buffy can be expected. There are many things I am responsible for here, and I must get this meeting underway before…”

Andrew gulped. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Even though he promised Buffy he wouldn’t say anything to anyone… he felt the time had come to begin the telling of it all.

“Well, Mr. Giles… it’s sorta like this. When I came back, Buffy was here, and we talked, and I told her some things, and she got all angry and nervous and growly and determined and shejustleftforLA.”

Tingles of dread ran down Giles’ neck. What the hell had Andrew said to his Slayer for her to go running off like that, without a word to anyone? With as much restraint as he could muster, Giles placed his glasses firmly back in place, and said, “Settle down, boy, and let’s get this started… where is Buffy and why did she leave?”

“Buffy went to the city of angels, to confront the dragon and rescue the knight,” he replied, backbone ramrod straight under Giles’ fierce gaze.

“Christ, Andrew… don’t you ever just say anything straightforward? My patience is waning, and if you don’t want me to take a page from Buffy’s book and start beating on you, I demand a comprehensible answer from you, immediately.”

Fine, Mr. Giles… just remember, **_You Asked For It!_** ”

**“ANDREW!!!”**

“All right, all right already. Hold your horses… Buffy is in Los Angeles. She went to Wolfram and Hart to have a smack down with Angel about why he never told her about Spike being back. Now, she and Spike are going to go off into the sunset and live happily ever after.” Andrew put his hands on his hips, and glared right back at Giles.

There were a thousand different things flashing through his mind before Andrew spoke, but what actually came from his mouth was so far from the expected, that his hand flew to his mouth, trying and failing to stifle an intense case of the most unmanly giggles ever uttered. Within a moment, Giles was on his knees, eyes tearing and chest heaving from the raucous laughter issuing forth.

Trying to gather a modicum of control, he made the mistake of glancing up at Andrew… still standing there with a serious expression on his face, tapping his foot and just waiting for Giles to come to his senses. That was all it took to set him off, again. It was several minutes before he was able to stand and face Andrew with any sense of rationality.

“All right, Mr. Giles, you’ve had your fun… laughed at my expense. Now, you really need to get this through your above average brain. Spike is back. He rematerialized from that amulet that dusted the Uber Vamps and collapsed the Hellmouth. It showed up on Angel’s desk one day in the mail, and when he opened it, out popped Spike, all ghostly. Now, he’s all solid again… and he’s great to hug and all… and he looks good, you know… like he’s actually getting enough blood for a change… and, well, now? Now, he and Buffy are together again, and they’re happy and they’re talking to each other and they have a whole future in front of them. Do you get it now, Mr. Giles? I’m telling it as it is.” By the time he had finished, Andrew was actually huffing, from having run out of breath.

There was an eerie sense of déjà vu to all this. Giles tried hard to remember where and how this had… Ah! That was it… Buffy had said she had been sleeping with Spike, and he had brushed it off as the most asinine thing he’d ever heard.

Perhaps this time, it would behoove him to listen, and learn from his past mistakes.

“All right, Andrew… let’s just say for argument’s sake, that what you say is the truth. Why would Buffy not tell me where she was going, or why?” 

One eyebrow raised, head slightly tilted in an eerie approximation of a miniature Spike, Andrew went for the truth. No holds barred.

“Tell me, Mr. Giles… what was your last interaction with Spike back in Sunnydale?”

Giles had the good graces to at least look ashamed. He remembered that horrid collaboration with Robin Wood to take the vamp out, even if he had thought it was the right thing to do. He shuddered to think of what would have happened to the world if Spike had been dusted that night.

Andrew continued. “I know that things with Buffy were strained after you tried to have Spike murdered. And I know things were somewhat better, once we settled in England and before she left for Rome. Riddle me this, however… what would your reaction have been if she had said ‘Hey, Giles… gonna make a quicky trip to LA. Seems that Spike… you know, the vampire I’d been sleeping with and you wanted to kill, is back amongst the unliving. I wanna see if we can make a go of things this time around. Do I have your blessings?’ I’m sure it would have been less than a Little House on the Prairie moment.”

Well! Giles would certainly have to re-evaluate his opinion of Andrew in the future. The little git seemed to have grown a pair somewhere between home and the States. Raising his head to meet Andrew, eye to eye, he said, “Andrew, I must apologize to you. First, I had no right to laugh at you like that. In all honesty, I thought you were joking. I’d once had a similar reaction to one of Buffy’s confessions, and it appears I’ve learned nothing from that encounter. I will endeavour to be more respectful, in the future.”

Looking pleased, Andrew smiled, then said, “Mr. Giles, I do believe it’s not to me that you owe an apology. I’d suggest you place a call to Buffy’s cellular, and speak with Buffy and Spike. There is much ground you need to make up with them. Just think… if Spike decides to come back with Buffy, can you imagine the opportunities? He’s a phoenix, risen from ashes! He’s gone where no man has gone before… and come back! Imagine the entries in your Watcher’s Journal.”

With a nod of agreement, Giles dismissed Andrew, and picked up his phone. Pushed the autodial and waited. Heard the pickup. “Hello, Buffy?”


	8. London Bridges

Spike and Buffy left Angel’s offices shortly after their little PDA routine was broken up by the cheers of the crowd, and the low growls of the elder vampire. They were currently enjoying some nice, quiet time alone in Spike’s basement apartment. Wasn’t much to look at, but ambiance wasn’t their first priority. At the moment, both Slayer and Vampire were very much lost to the world around them, caught up in the bliss of their lips touching. They forgot anything that existed besides themselves, the glory of knowing one another again.

Not so lost, however, that Spike didn’t chuckle when he heard the strains of “Wind Beneath My Wings” emanating from the direction of Buffy’s rear-end. 

“What’s that, luv? You develop a new talent while I’ve been gone?” Spike said, his blue eyes twinkling with merriment. “Cute song… now where have I heard it before, hmm?”

Blushing prettily, Buffy glanced at the LED display, and noted the call was coming from London. She picked up the receiver. “Hello, Buffy Summers speaking. Hey Giles. Is everything okay?”

“Hello, Buffy. Everything is _not_ fine here, as you should be well aware. We were supposed to have a debriefing regarding Andrew’s retrieval of Dana, as well as what he’d managed to learn regarding Angel’s involvement with Wolfram and Hart.

“Would you care to tell me just why in the bloody hell you snuck off without telling me? I know we’ve had our differences in regards to your personal life before, but don’t you think for an occasion this momentous that I would have put aside my personal misgivings and wished you well?”

Buffy took a deep breath before she began. It wouldn’t benefit anyone if she flew off the handle before uttering a single word. “Tell me something, Giles. How accommodating would you have been if I told you I needed to go to Los Angeles on personal business, without filling you in on the details? You’d have stood there, all huffy and parenty, and demanded to know just why I had to leave in such a hurry.” She glanced at Spike, who just rolled his eyes and kept silent, and mouthed ‘cleaning his glasses.’ 

Giles jumped in with both feet. “I know that Spike has been a horrid bone of contention between us, Buffy, but you have to remember several things. First and foremost, I am a Watcher. It was bad enough that I had given some measure of trust to Angel when he entered your life, and we both know how well that ended.”

“Spike was another issue altogether. Unsouled and vicious, he’d tried to kill us all over and over again. I have to be grateful that he did such a piss-poor job of things. Admittedly, you surprised me when you offered amnesty, and _my home_ to the creature when he showed up at my doorstep that Thanksgiving when he’d been chipped, instead of staking him in his weakened condition.”

“Look, Giles,” Buffy began, but was cut off almost immediately.

“I would appreciate you letting me finish. I do feel you owe me that much. I am not trying to be adversarial at the moment, but I must get some of this off my chest before engaging in any sort of civilized conversation with you. Do you understand?”

“Sorry, Giles. Please, go ahead. I’ll be all mousy-like.”

“Thank you, Buffy. Now, as I was saying, living with Spike was not an easy thing, and he was most unappreciative and ungrateful during his tenure here. However, I will admit that he was somewhat useful in patrolling with you, and when you were gone, he took up more than his fair share of the slack that your absence created. He was also wonderful with Dawn, and I suppose nobody ever said a word of thanks to him for it.”

“When you had come back to us, and admitted to me you had been sleeping with him, I know I dismissed it out of hand in a rather rude manner, causing you to close yourself off from further discussion. I am so sorry for helping you to bury your feelings further than they already were at the time. Believe it or not, it was Andrew who made me realize my behavior directly affected your ability to be open and forthcoming about your trysts with Spike.”

From the couch, Buffy could see Spike getting agitated on her behalf. His ‘super vampire hearing’ had given him Giles’ whole attitude so far, and he was rapidly losing patience.

Putting her hand over the receiver, Buffy begged, “Please, Spike… I need to let him get this over with… you don’t have to worry about my feelings. I’m fine, and you know how I feel about you.”

Not saying a word, he stopped his pacing, and sat back down on the couch and huddled into her side, head on her shoulder.

“Giles, please get to the point already. I’ve been there and bear the tattoo,” Buffy sighed.

“And Spike can hear every word I’m saying, yes?” he queried.

“Oh yeah. With a capital uh huh.”

“Well, I have nothing to be ashamed of, Buffy. My feelings are my own, but I shan’t be much longer, I assure you,” Giles stated, and continued. “My biggest fear upon your return was that I had become lax in my duties, not only as your Watcher, but in regards to your friends’ behaviors, as well.”

“Willow’s issues were mounting, as you remember, and Xander and Anya were attempting an adult relationship. Dawn was becoming increasingly difficult to manage after the death of your mother, and your subsequent neglect. I know you tried to be everything to everyone, and ended up nearly destroying yourself in the process. When you started leaving all the big choices up to me, like parenting Dawn, and ignoring your friends’ problems, I knew I had to make you face up to your adult responsibilities, so I left. I believed I was right, in that you would pick up the slack left by my departure.”

Once more, Buffy could practically hear Giles remove and polish his glasses. A time out tactic, she figured.

“I was so wrong, Buffy, and I hope you’ve forgiven me by now for leaving you with far too many responsibilities while you were so unsettled. If I could change anything, it would be the decision to leave you so in the lurch.”

Tearing up at his admission, and recognition that he’d really hurt her by his departure, Buffy allowed, “It’s okay now, Giles. It’s of the past, over and done with.”

“Thank you, Buffy. I promise, this should wrap things up on my part. I appreciate you giving me the time, and you can thank Spike for not interjecting his objections at this point. I can practically see him straining at the leash to tear into the conversation,” he chuckled.

“Oh, I think you’ve hit that nail on the head,” she replied.

“It’s okay, Buffy, honestly, I am rather amazed at his restraint in the matter. No mind, the last bit of what I have to say is very simple and straightforward. When I returned to Sunnydale with the potentials, the Council had just been decimated. I was in what you would refer to as ‘Papa Bear’ mode. When Spike began exhibiting odd behavior, even for him? I couldn’t trust him. Finding out he’d managed to kill more than a dozen people with the chip still in place was not reassuring, and then you had it removed! Do you understand what was going through my mind? That was rhetorical, by the way.”

“I felt your judgment was faulty, and that your growing feelings for Spike were going to get us all killed. When Robin Wood also voiced his concerns, when the prokaryote stone had failed to disarm the trigger implanted in Spike’s brain, I felt I had to make a judgment call. I agreed to let Robin handle the situation while I kept you distracted.”

Even over the phone, Giles could hear a loud growl emanating from Spike, and he hurried to continue.

“I stand by my decision, based on the facts I had at the time. I do regret the fact that I was so single minded in wanting to protect you all, that I failed to even consider the enormity of Spike’s regaining his soul, no matter what the reason. Perhaps if I had bothered to actually talk with him, we could have found a less fatal way to deal with the whole situation.

“I lost your trust that day, Buffy… and I don’t think things have been quite the same since. We’ve mended some fences, but I am aware enough to know we have a long way to go yet. I would like to make a start, by speaking with Spike for a few moments, if that’s okay with you both.”

Practically grabbing the phone out of Buffy’s hand, Spike said, “Allo, Rupert. How’s life been treating you?”

Wearily, the Watcher said, “You’d think I’d be used to this by now, Spike.”

“C’mon, Rupes – it’s a bleedin’ telephone. Surely you’ve had time to get comfortable with the newfangled technology. I’ve got no problems with it, and I’ve been around a hell of a lot longer than you, mate.”

“Not that, you git!” choked out Giles. “I meant with people coming back from the dead.”

“Still dead, ponce.” Spike barely managed to control his amusement.

“Spike, put Buffy back on the phone before I say something I won’t be held responsible for,” Giles ground out.

Handing the phone over to Buffy, Spike was in a far better mood. Winding the old Watcher up was one of his favorite pastimes. Glad to see he hadn’t lost his touch.

“Hey, Giles. You’ve got to forgive Spike. Really, he’s been so good while you said your piece,” Buffy pleaded, trying to keep the laughter out of her voice, as well.

“Fine, Buffy. No problems. I do believe this is a conversation best had face to face, at any rate. At my earliest possible convenience, I’ll arrange for an extended visit to California, and we can do this in a civilized manner. Be well, Buffy. Both you and Spike, and I’ll see you soon.

Hanging up the phone, Giles just shook his head, removed his glasses and prayed for patience.


	9. Moon Shadow

The time spent in Africa had been good to Xander. It was amazing what leaving California, potato chips and HoHos could do for a man. He stood straight and tall, and was the most fit and trim he’d been in his entire life. He walked for miles over the countryside on a daily basis. He manned construction crews; helping supervise the building of housing and community offices wherever they were wanted.

He’d let his hair grow long, keeping it pulled back in a ponytail to hold it out of his face; his skin had taken on a slightly weathered appearance with a berrygold hue. He thought the eye patch and the hair gave him a sort of Highlander appearance, ala Adrian Paul, not Christopher Lambert. He looked good and knew it… and paid his appearance no mind whatsoever.

Xander liked to sit outside at night, on the dusty ground. His favorite pastime involved leaning against a huge tree, looking up at the moon and watching the shadows play across the surface. He was at peace within himself. Solitude was no longer a curse.

The young man’s days were usually busy… he would search the little villages for signs of trouble… usually, the male elders of the tribes would isolate an unusually strong, aggressive young female, and were almost always happy when he found a place for them to belong amongst the new Slayers.

He kept in touch with Andrew and Giles, mostly. There was a phone in the mission where he was based. They would call and tell him of a tribe the locator spells the Council performed regularly had pinpointed, or he would call and tell them when another girl had been found.

Tonight, an eerie chill settled in his bones. His grandmother would have said someone was walking across his grave, but he’s still alive and kicking, yes siree. Came close, but still there, mostly in one piece.

Somehow, he knew that things were about to change.

One of the little girls of the tribe came to him, announcing by hand gestures that there was a phone call. He stood up, ran his hands over his rear to shake loose the dirt, and loped towards the mission; sure the phone would herald another adventure.

Sure enough, it was Andrew.

“Hello, Xander,” he said. “How’re things amongst the beasts and the children?”

Laughingly, he replied, “Andrew, my man… don’t change a hair for me. What’s up, buddy?”

“There’s a small village to the south of where you’re stationed, and the elders are going to bring a girl named Sela to you by morning,” Andrew answered. “Would you be able to accompany her to Los Angeles?”

“Why would I be bringing this kid to LA, Andrew?” he asked. “I mean after all, the culture shock from Africa to England is gonna be bad enough – why inflict LaLa land on her as well?”

“Ahhh, well… you see… um,” the nervous Watcher in training stammered, “Mr. Giles is already there, taking care of some Council business. He’ll be able to escort Ms. Sela back to England, and you can go back about your business, without the added bother of coming to England yourself. I remember how difficult it was for you the last time you came back.” 

“The G-man himself, huh? Must’ve been very important for Giles to make the trip,” Xander mused.

Unable to avoid it anymore, Andrew said, “Well, yeah… he’s at Wolfram & Hart. He and Angel are in discussions. There is a real disagreement on policy over how to handle the Slayers found in his city, and especially if there are special circumstances, like with Dana.”

He’d heard about that little tale, of course. Xander also knew that there was more to the story than what he was told, but he shrugged it off. No longer intimately affected by the moment to moment goings on of the Council, Giles and Buffy, the young man let many things roll off his back without a second thought.

“Time for bed, Andrew,” he yawned into the receiver. “I want to get an early start back to the States tomorrow.” Started abruptly to realize he hadn’t said ‘home.’ California was no longer home to him. Home was truly where he hung his hat.

After a hurried goodbye, Xander hung up the phone, left the mission building, and crawled into his hut and his bed. Suddenly he was exhausted, knowing there was a long journey ahead of him.

Morning definitely came way too soon for him, and he awoke to the sounds of a jeep horn blaring. Stumbled over to his dresser, where the water basin was… took a quick whore’s bath, splashing his face and neck. Made a half assed attempt to wipe the sweat from his body and dressed.

Sela was waiting in the jeep along with a driver. The trip to the little airport was made in silence. There really was nothing to say – neither the driver nor the girl spoke English, but her destination and journey had been explained by Andrew. Amazing capacity for languages the boy had, Xander thought. Just like Dawn.

At the thought of his little Dawnie, Xander felt slightly melancholy. Not because he missed her, or any of the other Scoobies, because he really didn’t miss them all that much. Not at all, if truth be told.

After the whole epicness… epicnicity? Disaster, worked for him, he decided. After all that craziness had subsided, Xander had taken stock of himself. His Anya was dead… there was no longer a chance that they could mend their relationship. Dawn was fully immersed in her studies in England, and then Rome, when she and Buffy took off. Giles was truly immersed in the rebuilding of the Council to the betterment of all the new Slayers. Willow and Kennedy were off in Brazil, doing something, he guessed.

Shaking his head, Xander couldn’t believe the distance that had formed between the former best friends. Buffy? Well, after the dust settled… she just wasn’t the same. When Spike died, there was just something missing… some spark… some sense of life she had finally regained over the past year. She was just too painful to be around anymore. Nothing he could do would snap her out of her distress, so he opted to do the one thing he had open to him.

He left.

He’d asked Giles to place him where he would be most needed. Where there was something useful he could do. So, Africa became his domain. Slowly but surely, he’d made his way through some of the most remote places on the continent. Couldn’t even name them – just pushed through wherever he needed to be. Good guides, and the luck of the draw.

Sela never uttered a word, just went in the direction she was pointed to. They boarded the plane and settled in for the flight. The girl was happy looking out the window of the plane. At least she wasn’t frightened, Xander thought, by the new experience of the flight, and with the Sela comfortable in her seat, he closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep.

He should have known better. Once thoughts of Spike had entered his brain, the former Scooby knew he was doomed. He remembered those last few months with Spike ensconced in Buffy’s basement. Once again, he’d been thrashed by the real Big Bad. For a Master Vampire, he certainly gotten his scrawny ass handed to him more times than Xander could remember. And most of it while wearing a white hat.

He had to chortle to himself at that image. White hair, white skin, white hat… Spike was a vision, to be sure.

When had the lines become so blurred, the man thought to himself. In what reality did EVIL cross the line and sacrifice himself for the rest of the world? When Buffy told the gang of his fiery demise, Xander had no choice but to be impressed.

Even one year ago… especially that year ago, his opinion of the bleached menace left much to be desired. A year ago, Xander had been a bitter, angry man. Even though he’d been the one who left Anya at the altar, when he’d caught the Spike/Anya table polishing show in glorious geeknicolor on Willow’s laptop… Damn, he was livid. He’d gone after Spike with Buffy’s axe, fully intent on beheading the creature and ending things with him once and for all. If it weren’t for Buffy… who knew if the world would still exist?

These days, Xander knew better. He’d accepted his own part in the wedding debacle. He’d begun to understand the enormity of Spike’s metamorphosis from Big Bad to Big Hero. He was only sorry he never had the chance to let Spike know that he knew.

Once they’d changed planes from the little puddle hopper to a jumbo jet at Cape Town International, their flight to LAX was uneventful. Xander and Sela were met by one of W&H’s limousines, and sooner than he was prepared for… Wolfram & Hart stood before them in all its imposing glory.

He looked at Sela, a small smile graced his lips. Long gone were the days of Xanderbabble ™ . Gone were the days when he would try to make everything better by clowning around. The Hellmouth had killed the clown. All clowned out, yup. No more clownage for the Xan-man. The brunet beckoned to Sela, who followed silently behind as they walked into the vampire’s den.

“Are you Mr. Harris? And is this Sela?” They were greeted by a nondescript woman in a suit. “I’m sure you’ve had a long and tiring flight. Please allow me to escort Sela to the conference room, where Mr. Giles and several other Slayers are in attendance.”

With only a small glance in his direction for confirmation, Sela turned, and followed the woman, both quickly retreating down a long corridor. Xander sighed with relief. He always felt better when the responsibility for the Slayer was transferred to someone else.

He walked over to the bank of elevators and quickly scanned the Directory. Mr. Angel – 3rd Floor. Mr. Angel, my ass, he thought. Already the tension headache made him long for the solitary peace of home. Between the flight, the airport and the traffic, he’d already been around more people than he’d seen in the past half year. Rolling his eyes, he muttered, “Que Sarah, Sarah,” entered the car, pushed button number 3 and up he went.

The doors opened to familiar voices. Xander smiled as he recognized Angel’s and Wesley’s raised in an escalating argument.

“Angel, really… this kind of thing needs to stop. There is absolutely no need for a power struggle between you and the European contingent,” Wes pleaded.

Struggling to keep his temper in check, Angel was about to reply, when he whirled in Xander’s direction, obviously having caught his scent in the air.

“Hey, Deadboy… Watcher, Jr. What’s the sitch? Not too professional arguing in full view of the minions. Isn’t that what offices with closed doors are for?” Apparently, Xander’s new-found maturity went right out the window, in the face of old… acquaintances, and it was back to Scooby-speak in no time flat.

Wes, for one, was pointedly staring at the familiar, but oh so different appearance of the boy he once knew. 

“Xander Harris, as I live and breathe. I barely recognize you. The hair is rather different, and the eye patch? Well, I’d heard about the incident with the First. Sorry you had to go through all that, but you look bloody marvelous.” Extending his hand, Wes grasped Xander’s in a firm handshake and looked mighty pleased to see him.

On the other hand, Angel, already simmering from his previous discussion with Wesley, growled softly and looked decidedly uncomfortable. Belatedly, he offered his hand and said, “Harris, don’t call me Deadboy. Is it too much to ask? After all this time?”

His brown eye sparkling with mischief, the brunet snapped to attention and replied, “Yes, Sir! Mr. Angel, Sir!” Got the delivery out straight-faced, and figured he was operating on borrowed time. The seventeen year old clown was back in full force. Apparently some things never change. Winding up the vampire was a game he’d enjoy for the rest of his natural life.

“So, Xander, what brings you to our neck of the woods?” asked the former Watcher. “Seems like it’s old home week at Wolfram & Hart. Mr. Giles is here, Buffy is also…”

At that moment, Angel interrupted with: “Wes, I’m sure Xander is tired. Why don’t we all go into my office for a drink, and we can discuss what he’s doing here in a civilized manner. We have chairs for this kind of thing, and as he so correctly pointed out, a door that closes, keeping our business private.”

“Geeze, Dea… Angel,” Xander corrected himself, “What’s the problem? You actually seem animated. Not a good day for a visit? And what’s this about Buffy being here? I was under the impression that I was delivering a Slayer to Giles for transport back to the mother ship. Looking thoughtfully at Wes, he continued. “Just what would bring Buffy over? Last I heard, she’d refused to come back to LA.” 

“I’m sure you heard of the deranged Slayer who had escaped from the hospital last week, Xander. Andrew insisted, with a small army of Slayers backing him up, that we turn her over to Mr. Giles and Buffy for treatment in England. Angel disagreed. He felt that we had more than adequate facilities to help the poor woman. I believe that the presence of both Rupert and the senior Slayer will help iron out a firm policy in the event another unusual circumstance arises.”

Turning to the scowling vampire, Xander asked, “Angel, I know that Giles is in a meeting downstairs with a bunch of slayers, including Sela who came in with me. D’ya mind if I wait up here for him? Will someone let him know I’m here?”

Before Angel could answer, the elevator door opened, revealing its occupants. As they strode into the hallway, Xander froze. Not that seeing Buffy dressed in a delectable pair of black leather pants and a red bustier wasn’t an eye-boggling affair unto itself, but striding along next to her… nah, it couldn’t be. Could it?

He shook his head slowly, in denial. Rubbed his eye with the back of his hand as if that would take the apparition away.

Worry filled the man’s voice as he exclaimed, “Bufster, long time no see. Are you sure that the First is long gone… ‘cause I think I’m seein’ a ghost behind you.”

Buffy chortled.

“Nah, mate. Haven’t been a ghosty for the past couple of months. S’me., in the undead flesh! Come and give old Spike a right proper welcome back kiss.” Blue eyes dancing merrily as he opened his arms wide to playfully mock Xander, he got the shock of this life or any other.

Moving quickly, Xander gathered Spike up in a huge bear hug, planted a firm kiss on his lips and said, “Welcome back, Fangboy.”


	10. Of Demons and Souls

Rupert Giles was the very picture of vexation. Ensconced in a small, private office, he tucked into yet another binder full of medical notes and observations pertaining to Spike. Page after page of meaningless equations and values. Hundreds of pages of seemingly trivial minutiae telling him absolutely nothing.

There was no record of what brought the demon back after his immolation in the Hellmouth, just that Spike popped into existence in the middle of Angel’s office, right out of the amulet. No record of what kind of spectral being he had become, just that it was unique and conformed to no known entity. A bloody enigma, thought Giles. Much like the vampire himself always was.

Never a run of the mill vampire, Spike was the scion of an elite vampire line – Aurelius. Demon descended in a direct line from The Master, thru Darla, thru Angelus, thru Drusilla. Whelped by three of the most infamous vampires in known history; vicious beyond measure, second only to Angelus by degree. William the Bloody had made his mark in the Watchers’ Journals as the Slayer of Slayers, having killed his first when he was a mere 20 years reborn.

As he had come to learn, Spike was approximately 150 years old, if one counted his actual age before turning, as well as his vampire years. He had an almost singular ability to adapt to the changing decades, familiarizing himself with the fads and inventions of the time. For a Victorian era gentleman, Spike was remarkably at home with television and inane soap operas as he was with Latin, Greek and literary classics. 

Spike had cared for his insane Sire, Drusilla, for more than a hundred years; rather unheard of loyalty amongst vampire circles. His arrival in Sunnydale had specific purpose – to cure his Sire’s weakness, and to kill the Slayer. _His_ Slayer. Buffy.

His migraine set off a flash of lights behind his eyes. Removing his glasses, Giles rested his head on his folded arms, and hoped for relief. Of course, his ‘squooshy frontal lobes’ to quote the demon uppermost on his mind, had other ideas. Spike on the brain, he thought as he sighed deeply.

The past four years flashed through his mind, rapidfire. Remembered Spike’s drunken appearance in Sunnydale after being dumped by Drusilla. He also remembered that Joyce had a strange empathetic reaction to the emotionally wrecked vampire. Imagine, sharing hot chocolate and conversation with a soulless demon, discussing his ‘love’ life. What was up with the Summers women and Spike? He knew for a fact that Joyce had not been swayed by Angel, but Spike… she fluttered around him like a mother hen. Could there be anything more disconcerting?

Then, there was the issue of the Initiative and Spike’s behavior modification chip. As a Slayer, it had been Buffy’s duty to stake the weakened vampire when he had the bollocks to show up at his own door, seeking shelter and mercy. She would never have a more opportune moment. Did she take advantage of the situation? No, of course not. She bade him play house, albeit chained in his loo.

Spike had continued to bedevil them all, making a deal with the Initiative’s cyborg, Adam to kill them all. Damned poor planning, should have known demons never keep their end of the bargains they make, and yet…

Giles rose from his chair and stretched, hoping to relieve the gathering tension in his aching muscles. Pacing around the room, he continued his ruminations.

More curious behavior patterns were noted with Spike. He had found he could fight other demons, with no reaction from his chip, and would indulge in his need for violence and mayhem by following Buffy around. And yes, he could admit to himself, that on more than one occasion, he had been helpful in keeping his charge alive for another night’s battles; didn’t mean he had to be happy over their ‘partnership.’

The rest of Spike’s involvement in everyone’s lives was mostly a jumble. The insertion of Dawn into their memories, Joyce’s illness, Spike’s developing crush on the Slayer, Glory’s reign of terror. Buffy’s ever increasing and unquestioning reliance on Spike to fight at her side and watch her back. The torture the vampire withstood at the hellgod’s hands without betraying Dawn’s key status. Frankly, that had amazed Giles at the time. Simply put, he was sure the vampire would have sold them all out to save his own selfish arse.

Yet… when Buffy gave her life to close the portal, an amazing thing happened. He remembered seeing a shattered vampire; so many broken bones he could scarcely crawl, so devastated over the death of a Slayer that he cried. No, more than cried, he downright sobbed uncontrollably. Remarkable for the fact that a soulless creature could feel the emotions of loss, much less express them.

He’d also expected Spike to move on after Buffy’s funeral. No more reason to stick around once the object of his obsession was dead. Yet, the vampire not only stayed on, but patrolled with them all summer, patrolled on his own, and actually _babysat_ Dawn… able to reach her when all other efforts had failed. Most remarkable, indeed.

Giles recalled the demon, Sweet, summoned by Xander, and the circumstances leading to his return to England. There was so much he didn’t know from first hand experience; he’d had to rely on contact with the children, and that was rarely informative. Willow’s fall into the dark magicks after Tara’s demise precipitated his return to Sunnydale once again.

Pacing around the room in barely restrained anger, he startled to an odd noise. He was surprised to realize it was himself, growling softly. Realizing why, of course – remembering just exactly why it was that Spike was no longer around when he returned. What he had tried to do to Buffy. He shuddered at the thought of that evil thing raping his… Slayer? Daughter? Well, either way, Giles was incensed.

 

The anger passed as quickly as it had begun, as he remembered just exactly where Spike had gone directly as a result of his actions. To Africa… to seek out his soul. Due to the remorse and guilt and shame over that despicable act. That the demon felt revulsion over it’s own acts of violence towards the woman it… loved? Was it possible that the entirety of all things the Council held true about vampires faulty? That soulless demons had a conscience? That they could love? And why hadn’t he given serious thought to this before? 

Such confusion… much of it centered around Spike. When Giles had returned to Sunnydale, had shown up at Buffy’s home with the potential Slayers, he’d learned that the demon had been killing and Siring, bypassing the chip implant, thanks to a trigger placed by the First. He hadn’t understood why the Slayer spent so much time and effort to rescue said vampire. Even one they’d known as long as Spike. Especially after what he had done… tried to do, before

To make things worse, Buffy had Spike’s chip removed. It had begun to misfire, and was causing immeasurable pain with no provocation, slowly destroying him, and she’d had it removed, not repaired. He had been livid at what he thought was her disastrous choice, made without consulting him at all. It was presented to him as a fait accompli. When he’d tried to call her on her irresponsible decision, Buffy had countered with “he has a soul now,” as if that justified everything.

Giles knew full well that having a soul was not a guarantee of anything. The evil that ensouled men do was well documented in history; in his own personal past. He didn’t trust a soul to restrain Spike, either. When the Prokaryote stone he’d brought back hadn’t yielded positive results, Giles had been all too eager to send Spike off to his doom when Robin Wood offered to ‘take care of the situation,’ while he kept Buffy distracted.

The result of all this, was the total loss of trust from Buffy, and her cleaving ever closer to the vampire.

Removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, Giles thought about the hell of those last days. How Buffy had emotionally closed down, avoided him almost completely, questioned his every move, especially those revolving around Spike. He remembered when the potentials and her friends and he, himself had insisted that she leave due to her recklessness in planning the attack against Caleb. The heartbreak in her eyes as she left her own home. The white hot anger when Spike found out about it. The righteous indignation of the demon as he called them all on their disloyalty to a woman who’d lost her life at least twice in defending them all.

They’d regrouped a few nights before the final battle, Spike had somehow managed to heal enough of the rift between Buffy and the rest for her to be willing to take the lead once more. Angel had come back, and given her an amulet; to be worn by a Champion with a soul, but more than human, in battle. She, in turn, had given the amulet to Spike, sending Angel back to Los Angeles. 

They’d all fought hard on that awful day. Willow had worked a spell, turning all the potentials into active Slayers, many of whom had been lost. Anya fell, in defense of Andrew. And Spike? Buffy never went into detail about his part in averting the apocalypse. But she was well changed by his loss, and not for the better. It was like he’d taken something vital of her with him when he dusted.

Giles contemplated his options. He was unsettled over his most recent fallout with Buffy, once more over Spike. What other Watcher in history had his charge fall in love with not only one notorious vampire, but two? From the same line? Frustrated over and over by the vampires in his Slayer’s life, _and isn’t that a thought he never thought he’d have_ , Giles knew he had to do something. The question was… what? And how?

His mind made up, he pulled out his cell phone and asked Buffy if she and Spike would be willing to meet with him once more. At her acquiescence, Giles headed over to the conference room, where Buffy, Spike and Xander waited.


	11. Reality Bites

It wasn’t like the employees of Wolfram & Hart hadn’t been witness to this kind of display before. Merely two days past, they had been treated to the sight of a red, black and blonde kiss that nearly rocked the building to its foundation. Today’s kiss? Brought down the house!

Angel was stunned into silence. Wes was mildly amused. Buffy’s reaction was classic. She began with stifled giggles, which gave way to body shaking belly laughs. Her knees gave way and she found herself with her butt planted firmly on the floor, tears of laughter falling from her eyes.

Smack dab in the middle of the hallway stood Xander Harris, self-avowed demon hater. Strong arms fully wrapped around Spike as he gave the startled vampire the second most unexpected kiss in his entire existence. 

In an attempt to control herself, Buffy gasped, looking at the two men in front of her. Xander was a study in darkness, long dark hair tied back with a length of rawhide, eye patch firmly in place. Next to him, Spike was a polar opposite – pale as moonlight, his cropped platinum hair gelled to death. It was truly a sight to behold.

“Oh god, Spike. I so wish you could see your expression right now,” wheezed Buffy, trying so hard to bring oxygen into her system.

Spike pushed out of Xander’s embrace and warily searched the man’s face for some clue as to what was going on inside the brunet’s head. Just wanted to make sure he got a running start if a wooden stake suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Something about that old saw, “Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer?”

“Have you gone daft, mate?” the blond vampire exclaimed. “Last I knew, we weren’t exactly best chums. Yeah, little past the beheading by axe, but not into the warm and fuzzies, let alone the tonsil hockey bit.”

His amusement evident, Xander said, “There was no playing of the hockey with tonsils, Spike… not even tongue usage.” A small laugh, and he continued. “Can’t a man just be happy when one of his old acquaintances comes back from the dead? Never thought I’d be able to say that again, much less mean it. Must be the legacy of being raised on a. Hellmouth.”

Having composed herself at last, Buffy turned to her friend and asked, “Xan, when did you go all benevolent-like towards Spike? He’s right, you know. You guys do have a rather complicated history. Not that I’m all mindy, ‘course. Just curious.”

Before the young man could answer, the elevator pinged, alerting the gathered people to the new arrival. Giles.

“Good Lord,” the Senior Watcher said. “It’s like a family reunion. If one’s family included vampires and slayers. Xander, it’s good to see you. You’re looking remarkably well. And Buffy, it’s nice to see you looking so happy.”

Uneasily, he nodded his greeting to the remaining members of the little gathering. “Wes. Angel. Spike… bugger me, you really are here, after all.”

“Not on a bet, Rupes. But, I’m solid enough. To what do we owe the pleasure of your company? Decided to come for your pound of flesh, after all?” he enquired.

Unwilling to be drawn into an argument so early into the game, Giles took a deep, cleansing breath. “Spike, not all things revolve around you. Well, point of fact… the world actually does revolve thanks in no small part to your participation in the destruction of the Hellmouth, but I do have other business to conduct here. With Angel, for starters.”

Angel grabbed the opening in the conversation to interject, “I think you guys’ll be more at ease in my private suite. I’ll send up something for lunch. Pizza for everyone, and some blood for Spike. Wes and I have business to discuss, Giles, join us soon?”

Nods all around, Xander, Giles, Buffy and Spike followed Angel to his suite, and settled into the soft leather couches. Munchables were delivered shortly thereafter, and everyone prepared for a long overdue conversation.

“Thank the gods,” said Xander, once Angel had gone, and the food consumed. “Best thing Deadboy could do was take himself and Junior outta the mix. Not much for crowds these days, myself. And seriously, the only people I want to deal with right now, are you guys.”

Giles was curious. When he walked off the elevator, he remembered everyone being rather flustered, and figured this was as good a place to begin as any.

“Buffy, was there some kind of fracas between Xander and Spike before I arrived? They looked rather flustered when I first saw them, as did you,” asked the Watcher.

Snickering wickedly, the Slayer said, “Giles, you missed something that will never happen again as long as the world exists. Xander was all bear hugs and kissy face with Spike. I am sooo sorry I didn’t have Andrew’s video camera.”

“Dear Lord, and they’re both still in one piece? Spike, you just stood there and took it, or did you rather fancy him back?” He deftly removed his glasses, and cleaned them with his handkerchief, in a very practiced move. Keeping an eye trained on the bleached blond, he asked of Xander, “So… was he any good?”

“Oi, git! Was a bit too gobsmacked to do anything, not that I would. Got my girl here with me for the moment, and have no desire for any extras.” Spike glared.

“And that’s where I think I’ll begin,” said Giles. “Your girl, Spike? Is this something I should be concerned about?”

“And that’s sooo big with the ‘no’ here, Giles,” said Buffy. “Whatever is going on between Spike and me is absolutely no concern of yours or anyone else’s. If you wanna make with the official questions, that’s fine – between you and Spike. Anything else? Not relevant.”

Looking immeasurably relieved, Spike turned to the brunet and asked, “You care to tell a bloke why the big 180, mate? Not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Just curious, is all.”

Figuring this was as good a time as any to try and set things to rights, he began. “I’ve had a lot of time to think since the world didn’t end, Spike. Thanks to you. Losing Anya for good broke my heart. My interpersonal skills sucked, everyone had somebody else to care for, so I asked G-man to assign me somewhere I could do the most good.

“Oddly enough, I think I found my soul in the same part of the world that you did. Spent lots of time traveling through the African continent, alone. Searching for new Slayers, doing construction, and searching for the real Xander Harris.” Looking directly at Spike for signs of derision and finding none, he continued.

“I’m finally at peace with myself. I’m not ‘that drunk Tony Harris’ kid,’ I’m not the Zeppo amongst a gaggle of females with more power and strength than I’ll ever have. I’m a loyal man, I care for my friends and I realize there were times I was a complete ass.

“You and I came down firmly on opposite sides, Spike. You tried to kill me and my friends several times. Doesn’t make for the ‘bosom buddies.’ You beat me up, kidnapped me and Willow, killed people for food, and generally caused mayhem wherever you went.”

“Xander,” Spike tried. “Things were different then. Yes, well, still vampire here, but…”

“Don’t worry about it, Spike,” said the younger man. “Just part of the story of Spike and Xander. Anyway, as the years went on, and things changed, I didn’t. First impressions stayed with me. Monsters never changed, and monsters were never on the side of good.

“You know just how much I liked Angel, not. Some of that was jealousy. I know you know that I had a crush on Buffy for years. When I found out he was a vampire? Hell, I never gave him a chance. Pretty much single handedly helped the Buffster send him to hell during the whole Acathla nonsense.”

Xander swallowed hard at that admission, and chanced a look at Buffy. She was firmly ensconced in Spike’s lap, but not showing any distress at his words, so he took heart and continued.

“What I never realized was that you were just as responsible for stopping Angelus as any of us. Without your help, Buffy would never have been able to fight her way through him and Dru. If you were as evil as you’d always professed to be, you’d have thrown your hat in with Monsters, Inc. and we’d all have ended up in hell.

“To make a long story short, you got chipped, showed up at Giles’ asking for help and I couldn’t believe the cajones you had. No matter how hard I insisted, and believe me I really, really insisted, nobody would stake you.

“Then came the crush on Buffy, Glory’s reign of fun and madness, Joyce’s illness and death and… and…” He found he needed to catch his breath. No matter the fact that Buffy was sitting across the room, in the lap of another miracle of resurrection, his friend’s death always left him floored.

“Xander, is all this really necessary?” said Giles. “We’ve all had moments we’re not proud of in our past, and we’ve all had more than our fair share of suffering. Some of it caused by our own hands. Don’t you think it’s best left in the past?”

“G-man, that’s the problem here. You and me, we’ve let things go. Eventually they festered and poisoned our souls.” The younger man steadied himself, he knew things were moving into a whole other level angst from here, and had to steel himself to get through it.

“Spike, it finally is all about you. Gotta tell ya man, I’ve never been more wrong in my life. Not about the beginning. Honest hatred, no regrets. It’s the later stuff. Not that we were friendly before Buffy and the Flying Wallenda act from the tower, but after her return things got really nasty.

“Even after that summer, when things were as friendly as they’d ever been between us, I turned on you when she got back. No matter how much you’d helped us, patrolled without us so we could have some form of normal night life and babysat Dawnie, I found it real easy to go back to the hatred. Forgot all the good. And there was good. Lots of it. First thing I’m really sorry for.

“I hated you sniffing around her like a puppy. What I hated more, was the fact that she liked spending time with you and not us. I had Anya to love, and I wasn’t willing to let Buffy go. Sad to say, she wasn’t mine to begin with, but I didn’t quite get it back then. Not only did I hurt Buffy by depriving her of the one person she was comfortable with, I also caused Anya no end of grief with my Buffy obsession.”

“Xan, Spike and I know things were pretty bad, and we all made some mega-wrong choices,” said Buffy. “Don’t take this all on yourself.”

“Not trying to, pet. Let the bloke get it all out of his system. S’time for it all to be put to rest,” came from the vampire, as he nuzzled Buffy’s neck, much to the chagrin of Giles.

“Spike, must you do that in front of me? There is so much to talk about yet, regarding your return to existence. Is it safe for you to be around Buffy? Are you in control of your demon? Do you still have your soul? So many things to take for granted.” The Watcher sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with what appeared to be one whopper of a headache.

Turning his whole attention to the older man, Spike said, “Rupert, do you honestly think I would do anything to put Buffy in jeopardy? Don’t you think I’ve been poked and prodded and mystically scanned by all the best the Evil Empire has to offer? Even with all these assurances, remember, I wasn’t the one to call Buffy to tell her I still unlived. That was your pet, Andrew. And the Slayer made her own choice to come for me. Made me damned happy, it did.

“If you want a rundown on what happened to me, ask Angel for the file. Wolfram & Hart has boxes of computer paper and medical records that tell the tale as they know it. From my point of view? I wore the bloody fashion accessory, made my peace with Buffy and my ending, roasted from the inside and came back as a ghosty less than 3 weeks later.

“I was delivered through the mail to Angel’s desk. Got my body back much the same way – a package was delivered to me care of Evil, Inc., pop and flash and I’m back to my gorgeous undead self. End of story.”

“All well and good, Spike. If you don’t want to cooperate, I’ll go and ask Angel for that material and see for myself.” Giles rose to leave.

“You do that, Rupes. Seems you never want to believe there’s good in me. I can save the bleedin’ world, get my soul stuffed back in my chest, work with you, change my whole fuckin’ existence, throw my unlife away so’s you and yours can live happily ever after, and it’s just not enough to convince you I’ve changed. Believe what you want. I don’t care.” At that, Spike whispered something in Buffy’s ear, moved her to the chair, and stalked out.

Giles watched the vampire stomp out of the room, and came face to face with an absolutely livid Slayer.

“Giles, I am so ashamed of you. You’ve been in the same room with an absolute miracle and you still see nothing but vampire. If stupid, stubborn, self-centered Buffy can see what a change there was in Spike, a supposedly learned man such as you should be drooling at the change to document all this for posterior.

“I know all those volumes you had on Angelus and the curse and Angel. How can you not be interested in a monster who sought out his soul and saved the world. A lot?”  
“I’m sorry, Buffy. Truly. I don’t know why things went arse over teakettle. It’s just that Spike brings out the very worst in me.” Chagrined, Giles said, “I promise, I’ll speak with Spike later, if he’s willing. I never meant for things to go this way. I’m going to go meet with Angel and Wesley about Slayer protocols, and we’ll continue this at another time.”

Watching Giles’ retreating form, Xander asked “Whoa, Buff. Was I ever that much of an asshole?” 

“Just as big and twice as loud, Xan,” she replied. “but it seems as if you’re getting better. Damned fine kiss, by the way. Long time goal of yours?”

“Nah. Just wanted to wipe that cocky grin off his face. It was spur of the moment, but an excellent ice breaker, doncha think?” He giggled.

Right on cue, Spike re-entered the suite. “Lovely, git. Just promise to use a little tongue next time you try it.”

Looking up at the blond vampire, all Xander could see were smiles. No smirks, no sneers. Just a warm, friendly smile.

“So, Bleached Menace, we cool? Don’t need to go on and on about how wrong I’ve been?” he asked.

“We’re fine, mate. Can’t change our past history, but we can move on like civilized blokes.”

Spike then extended his hand to Xander, who grasped it firmly and said, “This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

Both men could hear Buffy’s eyes rolling from across the room.


	12. Into the Fray

Standing behind the door of the sitting room of Angel’s suite, Giles heard raised voices and the harsh tinkling of broken glass. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door, and strode into the room.

“ – so help me, Slayer! Just one more bloody word and I’ll…”

“Please, Spike. For me, just try to calm down. I'm sure that’s not what this is about,” begged Buffy.

“C’mon, Spike… deep breaths should help you to – ooops, look who I’m telling to breathe.” Xander chimed in, adding to the din.

The Watcher cleared his throat as he stood in the middle of the room.

“Giles, please,” said Buffy, as she jumped up from her position next to Spike on the couch and stood between two of the most important men in her life. “Just tell me that this isn’t going to disintegrate into another ‘Can’t you see there’s no trusting of that vampire, soul or not’ session. I’ve made my mind up to at least trust in Spike right now, and you know I love him. I’m not all-knowy about where we’re gonna end up. Today isn’t about thinking of fat grandchildren, just about being glad to be together for a bit. To have the time to think about what might be.

“As much as I love you, Giles, I no longer need a father figure, and there are plenty of other Chosens for you to be Henry Higginsish with. Don’t make _me_ have to choose this time.”

As her shoulders began to tremble, Spike walked over to the little blonde and scooped her up into his arms.

“Look, Rupert,” the agitated vampire began. “I know what you think of me. You’ve made that perfectly clear over the years. Think what you will, s’no skin off my back. The one thing I bloody well won’t stand for is you upsetting Buffy anymore. We agreed to listen to your yammerings, but it will end, now. It’s time, innit? Time to bleedin’ well get over yourself and find someone else’s feet to lay your shit at. S’gotta be a vamp, there’s always Peaches to piss off.” Turning his back, Spike walked calmly over to the couch, and sat down, Buffy settling into his lap. 

Realizing if Xander began to speak next that Giles would never get to say his piece, he began:

“Will the lot of you please let me get a word in, edgewise? I don’t understand how this has disintegrated into a pissing contest over Buffy. She is, after all, a young woman with an extraordinarily strong will and survival instinct. Single-handedly, she is responsible for the revamping of Council structure and operating procedure.”

With a single, oft practiced motion, he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “On an intellectual level, I know that Buffy is no longer ‘my Slayer’ nor is she my daughter. My heart, however seems to think otherwise. I will admit to letting this get in the way of my better judgment on occasion. For all the grief that my faulty choices have wrought, I apologize to you, Buffy. First and foremost, I never intended to cause you any distress. I’ve always had your best interests as the basis for anything I’ve said or done.”

Buffy sniffled, and said, “I know you’ve meant well, Giles. Honestly, I get that, but you really need to let me live my life as I see it. With whom I see fit. If it all falls to pieces, it’ll be my fault, or Spike’s, or whoever I end up with. That’s pretty much as normal as it’s gonna get for me.”

“Yes, my dear. In the future I shall endeavor to restrain my tendencies to want to pummel or dust anyone… sniffing around you.” Blinking rapidly, Giles attempted to stem the few unexpected tears that threatened to fall.

“Oi, Rupes! Nobody’ll be sniffing around my girl, not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Actually, Spike… I was referring to you. Hence the sniffing and dusting comment of just a moment ago,” Giles replied, a hint of challenge in his eyes. “And there’s no need for more growling, you git. I need to say a few words to you now, and I hope you’ll give me the courtesy of hearing me out.”

“Yeah, I’ll do, you miserable ponce,” the agitated vampire spat. “But if it goes in the same direction that all your other words have, I’m done. S’only so much a bloke can take.”

“All well and good, then.” Taking a deep breath, Giles forged ahead. “I know I’ve said it before, Spike. I don’t believe I was wrong when I made that damnable pact with Robin Wood to remove you as a perceived threat to Buffy, the potentials and everyone around them. However, I will say now that it wasn’t the smartest move I’d ever made.

“You do remember that life was impossibly hectic, yes? And that the frenetic pace of events hindered all of us from thinking clearly. You were a mess. Simply put, not in your right mind. You were having blackouts and being used to do despicable things for evil’s foul purpose.”

“Giles!” Buffy said, sharply. “You promised. There’s no reason for Spike to have to listen to this. He’s lived it, and suffered for it. It wasn’t his fault.”

“A means to an end, Buffy,” said the Watcher. “I promise… there is a point here, and it’s not meant to be inflammatory. Not this time,” he amended.

“The apology I offer you, Spike, isn’t for acting on my beliefs. It’s for totally dismissing you. Even amidst the stress of the times, I should have been able to set aside my prejudices long enough to see what was right in front of me. A demon, who had sought and fought for his soul to be returned to him. Who wanted to be more than he was. A de – no, a _man_ who fought by and on our side for no remuneration; not even a simple acknowledgment or thanks. For totally going against the demon’s nature for years in spite of being treated like last week’s garbage. _This_ is what I offer my apology for. And I certainly understand if you choose not to accept it.

“So, Spike – cat got your tongue?” Giles chided as he looked at the gobsmacked face of the vampire.

“Heh – didn’t quite know what else could shut you up, Spike – well, besides our little kissyface in the hallway,” came from Xander, who had been way too quiet for far too long. “I guess the list now includes hugs, kisses and apologies.”

Buffy giggled, and placed a small, sweet kiss on her vampire’s cheek. “C’mon, love. Say something to the nice Watcher.”

Roused from his shock, Spike turned to Giles and said, “I don’t quite know what to say, Rupert. I need you to know, what I did – I did for Buffy, not you. More importantly, I think towards the end, I did things for me. ‘Cause they were right and proper. It wasn’t easy, but it was clearer after awhile.

“Didn’t do things to earn ‘good vampire’ points with anyone. Just tried to help; to not bollocks things up too badly. Was no way going to let ‘er down again.” Looking directly at Buffy, he said, _“This_ time, I was gonna save ‘er.” Emotion choked his voice, thickened his accent. “’Cause when all is said and done, it’s still all about Buffy.”

“No, Spike. I don’t believe it is all about Buffy anymore,” Giles said, thoughtfully. “While your heart still seeks hers out, and what she thinks is of importance to you, I have a growing suspicion that if she asked you to do something morally objectionable, you’d give it more than just a thought instead of acting rashly.”

“High praise, coming from you, Watcher,” said the vampire, warily. “You’ve given me credit for havin’ a heart as well as a brain, an’ usin’ the two, as well.”

“We may never see eye to eye on things, Spike. However, as I said before, I shall try to be more open minded, and let your and Buffy’s lives follow through to their natural conclusion, and not interfere.”

Buffy let out a little “whoop” of delight, and almost bowled the man over in her enthusiasm. She hugged him tightly, and whispered a heartfelt “Thank you, Giles,” in his ear.

“Oxygen, Buffy… some of us still need it,” gasped Giles.

“Sorry… I’m so sorry,” the petite blonde said, as she released him. “I’m just so happy! I never thought I’d be able to have this. I have my calling, however _I_ choose to work it, I have my friends even though we’re on all different continents, and I have someone I love who’s not in immediate danger of being staked because of the first two things. It’s been really rough, guys,” she said, looking at both Giles and Xander. “I always felt I’d disappoint you, no matter what I did, or who I chose.” Turning to Spike, she continued. “I almost lost the best thing in my life by not believing in myself.”

Speechless, the platinum blond opened his arms, and his Slayer leapt into his embrace. Snuggled closely together, neither noticed the Watcher as he motioned silently to Xander that he was leaving.


	13. We Band of Buggered

Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Xander walked back into Angel’s living room. “Howdy, boys and girls. Time for all good slayers and vampires to remember they have company,” he said, cheerily.

“Giles said to give you his regards, and that he’d be in touch. I’m thinking you made him uncomfortable with all the smoochies, and he feared that groininess was on the horizon.” Xander chuckled. “He did have a good suggestion, Buff. Said it might just be a good idea to call your sis, and let her know about Mr. Not-so-dusty before she finds out from Andrew. If she hasn’t already. Can you imagine a pissed off Dawnie showing up at Wolfram & Hart, all Rogue-like?”

Buffy disengaged herself from Spike’s embrace, cheeks flaring pink. “Oh, my god! I can’t believe I forgot all about Dawnie. She’s gonna pitch a fit that I didn’t call her with the Spike news.”

“Well pet, you were kind of distracted by my lovely self. She’ll just have to forgive you. Just hoping the Bit and I can get past…” Spike’s eyes lowered and his voice shaded into sadness, as he remembered the total destruction of their relationship by his own actions towards her sister.

Gently stroking the unhappy vampire’s cheek, Buffy murmured, “You don’t know how it was, Spike. Really. After the Hellmouth collapsed, and everyone had time to settle in and realize just how much they’d lost, Dawnie broke down. I mean, everything she ever knew was gone – her home, her friends, her stuff… even Mom’s grave.

“She cried for it all, but who she mourned most was you. Her best friend, her confidante, her hideaway from the evil big sister. She couldn’t get over the way things ended. Dawnie had been so angry because of the way she found out about… well, you know. And she told me she had threatened to set you on fire. She forgave you, Spike. You have to believe that. She just never got to tell you that, and it broke her heart.”

“Uh, guys?” said Xander, sheepishly. “Really, really sorry for my part in the hostilities. I should have just kept my mouth shut and let Buffy deal with it. I’m all 20/20 with the hindsight now, and I can’t change how bitter and angry I was then. I meant to hurt everyone as badly as I was hurting.” He sighed, “I hope it’s all in the past now, and we can all move on.”

“Mate, can’t say as how I was happy ‘bout you sticking your nose where it didn’t belong, but it’s over and done. Can’t change things either, and you know how much I’d take that whole business back if I could.” Spike felt Buffy’s hand squeeze his gently, and turned to the woman in his lap “Luv, I think it’s time we made that call.”

Buffy pulled her cell phone out of her back pocket, and punched in the numbers to reach her sister. “Hey, Dawnie! How’re you doing?” Hearing nothing but unintelligible mumblings, she tried again. “C’mon, Daaaaawn. I’ve got something important to tell you.”

“Gods, Buffy. Do you have any idea what time it is here?” whined Dawn. “You never take that into consideration when you travel.”

“Huh, it’s only 6:30 here, which means – ooops, 3:30 in the morning by you. Sorry sis, but I’ve got some really good news for you. Someone who needs to talk with you.”

“There is nobody I want to hear from at this hour of the morning,” Dawn mumbled. “But since I’m already up, who needs to talk to me so badly that time isn’t an issue?”

Taking the phone from the Slayer’s hand, the nervous vampire said, “’Allo, Bit. Got a mo’ for an old mate?”

Xander and Buffy shared a sympathetic look as they heard a wild scream pierce through the phone. Spike tore the receiver from his ear and winced in pain.

“Bloody hell, Niblet, you’re worse than that chip. I’ve got blood drippin’ from my ear thanks to that screech.”

“Oh my god, Spike. Is that really you? I mean, it sounds like you, but you’re dead - I mean, you always were dead, but then you were really gone. Like in particles. Poof!” 

“Oi, snack size. M’not a poof. You must’ve Angel on the brain.” Spike pretended to complain, so relieved to hear the hope in his Bit’s voice that he was back amongst the unliving. “And yes, I did ‘poof’ in the Hellmouth, but that’s a story for another time. Just wanted you to hear it from us, first. Rather surprised the pup didn’t spill his guts by now.”

“Pup? Oooh oooh, you mean Andrew, right?” Dawn hesitated before she asked, “How long has he known, Spike? Is that why Buffy tore outta here with no note, no nothing? Giles was mumbling something about demons, and crazy slayers and all sorts of other things I’m sure he didn’t want my poor, innocent ears to hear, and.. I guess I’m all babbly right now and I’m sorry, but…” 

“Dawn… pigeon, take a breath,” laughed Spike. “I’m sure you have loads of questions, and m’sure big sis and I will tell the tale, just not now. Don’t rightly know where we’ll be, so wait until we call you back with some definite plans, all right?”

“I’m soo sorry, Spike. I just need you to know that things’ll be okay between us. I mean, I want to hear your side about everything and I know there are things we both need to talk about – but I love you, and I need you to know that,” she cried. “I’m just happy I have the chance to let you know that, and I can’t wait to see you again.”

Letting out a breath he felt he’d been holding since Sunnydale, the vampire murmured, “Soon, pet. I promise. We’ll work it all out, and make with the personals. Miss you, too.”

Spike gently hung up the phone, and looked up at the teary faces of both Buffy and Xander, as tears fell softly from his own eyes.

"Hey Spike." said the brunet. "You asked me before why I did a what was it - a '180' on my feelings towards you, right? Well, you see how good you feel puttin' the mend on things with Dawn? That's what I was aiming for. Needed to fix things with most everyone, you included, in order to fix myself."

With a delicate sniffle, Buffy walked over to the teary-eyed blond and wrapped her arms around his waist. “So, glad that’s out of the way, Spike,” she said, looking up to catch his still teary gaze. “Dawn’s happy and you feel better about where you stand with her. Andrew gave us a break for once and kept himself muzzled.”

“Yeah, luv. S’truly a load off my mind. Pint-size and I have a lot of talkin’ to do. Just glad to know she’s open to it, and happy for it to happen.”

“She’s not so pint-sized anymore, Spike. She’s more, well, quart-y. I swear if she grows any more, she’s gonna hit the ceiling.” Laughing warmly, Buffy turned to her old friend and asked, “So, Xan… what’s next on your agenda? Gonna stick around for a while, or are you headed back to do the searchy thing again for more slayers?”

“Don’t really know what I’m doing, Buffster. Yesterday, I’d have told you different. I was sure that as soon as Sela was transferred to Giles’ protection, I’d have hot footed it back to Africa. Too many people here to deal with, and the noise and hustle – not for me so much.

“Never expected you to be here and even if I knew, we haven’t been hang buds for a long time. As for Spike? Hells, he wasn’t even on my list of possibilities. No offense, Fangboy, but you were dead-er than usual,” he said.

Spike just nodded, merriment evident in his eyes,

Xander continued. “Anyway, today I’ve got a whole different vibe going on. Pretty much due to you, Spike. This whole resurrection deal is getting rather commonplace, and I think I’d like to see the results through this time. Anybody willing to put me up for a couple of nights? I figure we can see what’s the what and talk about the what’s next.”

“I’m sure Peaches’ll be thrilled to put you up, mate. Bein’ as you two get along so well,” the vampire snickered. “No worries there, or you could stay with Rupes, unless he’s leavin’ tonight?” he inquired. “I’d invite you to stay at my basement for a change, but s’only one bed, and me and Buffy...”

Hand in the air as if to stop the words from coming out, Xander said, “Enough, Spike. Please, no visuals. Whatever you and Buffy end up doing, I don’t need the blueprints. Thanks for the offer, anyway.

“I’ll tell you what. Let me call Giles to make the arrangements, then we can all go out to dinner. Or pick up take out. Either way, my treat.”

“Sounds great, Xan,” said the petite blonde. “Let’s pick up some Chinese and head over to Spike’s. More cozy that way, and we don’t have to worry about people overhearing anything demony.”

All in agreement, the trio left Wolfram and Hart behind.


	14. And the World Tilts

In shock, Dawn lets the receiver drop from numb fingers. Silent tears flow from eyes that stare sightlessly unaware as her legs give way and she crumples to the floor. Her shoulders shake from the force of the violent sobs she can no longer contain.

She’s alone in the room she uses when she’s doing research for the new Council. It’s Spartan in appearance, containing a bed, a dresser, mirror, night stand and lamp and a bookcase; nothing that marks it as hers. Well, except for a few pictures. One of Buffy and one of the three Summers women, a copy made from a photo Giles had kept in his home in Bath. From before. Before everything went to hell.

Before the Hellmouth closed and Spike died.

Except - it’s all changed now. In just one moment – one phone call – Dawn’s world has shifted. She isn’t really shocked by Spike’s return. After all, Buffy had died and come back. True, her sister had been miserable about it; she’d been pulled out of heaven and all, but she’d adjusted. Eventually.

It’s just that with Spike – well, there are just so many things to think about, now. After what happened between him and Buffy – the whole rape/not rape issue that Xander had made sure to tell her under the very worst of circumstances – she’d been so livid. So unwilling to even hear what he had to say when he reappeared in her life. Really, she’d thought there were no excuses, so she refused to listen.

Oh, and there were his insanity issues and the First, the Turok-han, his kidnapping by the Bringers and his rescue, at Buffy’s insistence. Dawn puts her head in her hands, as if to try and stop her brain from exploding with all the events that marked the last few weeks of Sunnydale. Open the memory closet, and it all comes pouring out – unstoppable.

All those Potentials crammed into their little house on Revello Drive. Spike shoved into the basement, usually manacled to the wall, Xander and Willow and Anya and Andrew; it had been like a freaking zoo! Giles’ return, Principal Woods’ involvement, and Faith, who had tried to kill Buffy several times. One house, very divisible.

She sighs as she remembers that the only time she spent in Spike’s company, was the de-triggering attempt with the Prokaryote stone. Got her head almost caved in for her troubles when the agitated vampire sent his cot flying in her direction. An accident, yeah, but she never sought him out to talk; to try and clear the air between them.

And who could forget the lovely collaboration by Murder, Inc.? Principal Wood, son of Nikki Wood, the Slayer Spike had killed in New York – so he had personal issues. Giles thinking the vampire couldn’t be trusted not to murder them all in their beds for more reasons than the trigger and newly de-chipped state. Gods, Buffy had been infuriated when she found out about it.

Dawn gets up from the floor and throws herself on her bed. One good stretch to unkink her long legs from the time spent sprawled on the floor. She tries to fall asleep, but the thoughts keep coming – one after the other.

She remembers the newly found closeness between her sister and the vampire and their estrangement from everybody else. It was always like that, as if Spike and everyone else repelled each other like magnetic poles. This time, everyone could see it. The potentials were divided between thinking it was awesome or freakish, Giles and the principal were just disgusted by it all, and Andrew? Heh, in Andrew’s eyes, Spike could do no wrong.

On that last day, in the high school – everybody’s nerves had been on edge. Dawn remembers the last time she’d seen Spike. He had been wearing that god-awful amulet from Angel and gone with Buffy and the potentials to the seal in the basement. She hadn’t been able to even wish him luck. Wouldn’t even say it to her own sister; she’d been too afraid. Final words and all.

In the end, she’d been silent. Too silent. The words stuck in her throat when Buffy told them all of Spike’s final death. How he’d insisted she leave and save herself and make sure the rest of them were safe before he’d dusted. How he’d saved the world. That left Dawn with no way to tell him she still cared, no way to even try to make things right with him.

She notices the tears have started again. Remembers the hopeful, loving glances when he thought she wasn’t looking. One good stare made him turn his head in shame. Wishes things had been different.

Dawn sits up abruptly, realizing that she has that chance after all. The phone call. She’d spoken to Buffy, who was with Spike. They were together. He was back, he missed her, he loved her and wanted to see her.

She wipes her eyes, draws a deep breath and forms a plan. She’ll clear it with either Giles or Andrew, and catch the first flight out to Los Angeles. No, wait… Spike asked her to wait for another phone call, until they had a place for her. Which meant she was still wanted, and she could live with that.

Dawn smiles. Soon she’ll have her little family back again.


	15. What Life Through Yonder Window Breaks

They stopped for Chinese take-out at The Golden Buddha, and placed their dinner order: spicy Kung Pao chicken for Spike, chicken and broccoli for Buffy, and chicken chow mein for Xander. Side dishes, too – an assortment of comfort yummies: fried wonton, spareribs, roast pork fried rice, eggrolls and the ubiquitous fortune cookies. Enough food to gorge an army with, or at least three people talking about their future plans.

The walk back to Spike’s apartment was made in companionable silence. She smiled to herself, at what a picture they must have made. Arm-in-arm-in-arm, Buffy in the middle. Two men and a Slayer. For a moment, she felt like a protected little girl, linking arms with the man she loved on one side, and her oldest male friend on the other. It had been a long time since she’d felt so cared for.

Unlike previous times in her life, she didn’t equate the sense of security and protection as personal weakness. These two men weren’t telling her that she needed looking after, that she was weak and incapable. They were adding their strength and love to hers, lifting her up beyond her own sense of self. It was a good, solid feeling; one she hoped wouldn’t be soon lost.

She almost gave in to the desire to skip down the block.

Once inside the apartment, Spike bypassed the tiny kitchen, opening all the food containers at the livingroom table. Buffy brought out paper plates and cups and Xander pushed the table away from the couch so that the three could sit down comfortably on the floor.

They prattled on as they ate – basic small talk about travel and Slayers at large. The vampire regaled everyone with what he’s called “Hair Gel Tales from the Evil Empire,” Buffy told them all about Dawn’s thriving in Rome, and her growing competency with ancient human and demon languages.

Finally, Xander broke the peaceful reverie with a loud, soul-satisfying belch. “Ooops, sorry folks. Think I’ve just reached my food limit. Which is of the good, seeing that there’s no more food to be had.” Rolling his shoulders to loosen an odd kink or two from sitting on the ground, he said: “I’ve got a few things I’d like to talk about with both of you.

“Buff, you asked me if I had plans to go back to Africa. I could do that – I was going to, as soon as Sela was with Giles, like I said before. I couldn’t think of a single reason to stay here one moment longer than necessary. I sure hadn’t planned on spending time with you, even once I’d heard you were here.”

With a sad smile, she said, “I understand, Xander. We’d stopped reaching out to one another. I mean, we all left for different continents, for crying out loud. It was just too easy to let everyone and everything else go.”

“Yeah, but this is old territory between us. The new and improved info is what’s important. When Spike popped up behind you – well, you saw my reaction.”

Spike snickered. “Yeah, git – tried to change my sexual preference in one easy lesson.”

“Ha ha, Fangboy, very funny, but you’re not gonna make me stray from my path here. What I wanted to say was that for the first time since Anya died, and probably a while before that… I felt a connection to someone else. I wanted to talk to you, Spike – to find out what happened to you. It mattered to me.

“And as for you, Buff – you practically glowed walking out of that elevator. You looked so much like the girl I fell head over heels for outside of Sunnydale High.”

“I remember Willow telling me something about you and a skateboard, and a handrail,” the blonde giggled. “Guess I really did knock you off your feet.”

“You were a knockout, in that most literal of senses, and it’s taken almost eight years to see you that carefree again. I think it’s worthwhile sticking around to enjoy your company, if you and Spike don’t mind.”

“Told you before mate, not a problem for Buffy’n me. S’just you need a place to stay. In a pinch, you can kip here for a night, but we’d be like three peas in a very tight pod.”

“Es no problemo – the Xan-man can always find a place to stay. And did I just revert to high school geek boy talk? I am so ashamed I hang my head,” he groaned.

Pushing away the remnants of her dinner, Buffy scooted over to her favorite vampire, who lifted the petite blonde and settled her into his lap. Leaning back against his chest, she sighed, wistfully.

“You know, it’s been only a few days since the world has changed for us all, and I’ve been too caught up in just being happy to give any thought to what comes next.” Chewing lightly on her bottom lip, she continued. “I left my sister and my whole existence in Rome dangling when I flew here. I mean, it wasn’t a difficult decision to make,” she said, softly stroking Spike’s cheek. “I had to see for myself that he’d come back.”

As if seeking to reaffirm his presence, Buffy burrowed her face into the crook of the vampire’s neck and hugged him until he practically creaked.

“Bloody hell, pet,” he winced. “M’not goin’ anywhere soon. Have some mercy on the ribs.”

“What’s the matter, baby? Can’t you take a little lovin’?”

“From you, Slayer? Any time,” he said, pressing little butterfly kisses up and down the smooth column of her exposed neck.

Clearing his throat, Xander said, “Do I have to get out the fire hose, people? You’re raising the ambient temperature in this room by leaps and bounds, and I’m not the one who needs to worry about combusting here.

“Now that I have your attention, I’ve got a couple of ideas I’d like to explore with you both. Seems to me that before your smoochfest a moment ago, Buffy was heading in my direction, in that ‘where do we go from here’ way. Without all the singing and dancing, of course.

“Looks like none of us have any real direction right now, other than a desire to do the right thing. Guess that’ll be our reason d’etre until we die… and _don’t_ come back. None of us trust Wolfram  & Hart and nobody’s comfortable with the idea of working side by side with Angel and his crew. But we _do_ trust each other.

“We’ve also worked with each other for years, so there’s a sense of what works and what doesn’t, and nobody has anything left to prove. I think we have the makings of a business venture at hand, and I’d like to know what you guys think before I continue to speak until I run out of words.”

Looking at Spike for confirmation before she replied, Buffy cracked her knuckles. “Xan, I’m willing to see what you have in mind, and Spike is willing, too. The sooner he disassociates himself from Angel, the better it’ll be for all of us. I’d love for us to be able to stand on our own.

“When Angel moved to LA, he had a good idea… to help the helpless on a person by person basis. Cordy helped him form his efforts into a viable business. I’m not thrilled with the pay for savingness of it all, but I think it’s an idea that can work. Keep it small, keep it trustworthy.”

“It’s a niche that needs to be filled,” Spike agreed, “’cause ever since Captain Forehead went corporate, the little folk lost their easy access to help.”

“Terrific!” the brunet exclaimed. “Even got a name picked out for the agency. How does Phoenix Investigations sound to you?”

“Why would you call it…” the Slayer trailed off, somewhat confused.

“Oh pet, it’s absolutely poetic. Good on you, Xander. Both of us having risen like the phoenix from death, and me, literally from ashes.”

Looking at Xander with a new sense of appreciation, Spike cocked his head. “Actually works for us all, Slayer. This isn’t the same whelp we knew in Sunnyhell. S’like the African sun burnt away the child and left a new man.”

Buffy’s hazel eyes sparkled with excitement as she rose from the blond vampire’s comfy lap and walked over to the table. Picking up a fortune cookies, she handed it to her friend. “I think we have the bare bones of something worthwhile here. Why don’t we cap off the night with the reading of the fortune cookie – and you can do the honors.”

Cracking open the cookie and reading the paper fortune to himself, Xander smiled broadly and handed it to the vampire.

After staring at the little slip of paper for a moment, Spike read it aloud. “Your future lies entwined with your most trusted companions.”

Maybe, just maybe, they were off to an auspicious beginning.


	16. Happy Holidays

Eventually, they found the perfect place for Phoenix Investigations. A storefront location, several apartments on the second floor, with a large basement – just a stone’s throw away from Angel’s old Hyperion Hotel. 

The new Council paid them salaries. Retroactively paid salaries in the case of their senior Slayer and Field Operative. Between Buffy and Xander they’d managed to pool their resources to cover the down-payment, but that didn’t leave much for renovations, advertising and monthly mortgage payments.

As for the renovations… so much work needed to be done to turn the basement into a combination apartment/training space. It was a seriously daunting task they’d all set for themselves.

Spike did his best to add to the coffers but hustling pool wasn’t going to make the difference between getting a business up and running, and losing the building. Sometimes he regretted not being able to resort to his old methods of acquiring what was needed.

The prospect of applying for a small business loan had Buffy shaking in her boots. She remembered her one and only experience dealing with the world of banking and finance and the total monster killing disaster it had turned into. If she remembered correctly, only those with money could borrow money, and there was no way in hell she was going to deal with that kind of rejection again.

Everyone agreed that asking Angel for a handout was so not the way to go. Nobody wanted to be beholden to Wolfram & Hart. And Spike was sure that any request for help on the part of an enterprise he was part of would be rejected out of hand.

Their salvation came unexpectedly during another dinner from the Golden Buddha. Sitting on the floor, picnic style, their dinner was interrupted by a knock on the door with a Council courier delivering a large white packet to be signed for by William Bennett.

Spike brought the envelope back to the group, a bit wary of _anything_ delivered through the mail system. He’d already gotten his unlife and his corporeality back that way… anonymously. Knowing this was from the Watcher’s Council, even or especially with Rupert heading it, made him nervous.

“C’mon, ya big baby.” Xander laughed, not used to seeing the trepidation play across the vampire’s face. “It’s only paper, and I’m sure Giles is past his ‘dust Spike’ phase, even by proxy.”

Buffy offered to open it for him, but Spike refused, figuring if it was going to blow up in someone’s face, it might as well be his own. With grim determination, he slid his fingers under the flap, dumping the contents of the envelope out on the floor.

To his shock, Giles had come through for him, big time. Spike now had several legal copies of his birth certificate, immunization records, valid British citizenship papers, an official green card allowing him to work in the United States, and a stamped passport. He was, for all legal purposes, the almost twenty six year old William Matthew John Bennett, born December 26th, 1978 in London, England.

Buffy wrapped her arms around Spike’s shoulders, thrilled with Giles’ apparent change of heart. Looking through the papers on the floor, she noted a white envelope with Spike’s name emblazoned in red ink across the middle.

“After going through so much trouble to declare you William Bennett… who would send a letter addressed to Spike?” She frowned, a tiny furrow forming between her eyebrows. “Someone sending you love letters from the Council, Spike?”

Irritating smirk number four firmly in place, and certainly knowing better, Spike replied, “Could be that Lydia bint. Maybe she survived the First’s Watcher Fest and wants to…”

_Thwap!_

Ruefully, Spike rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry, luv. Guess I should open it and see who wants what from me now.” He picked up the envelope, smiling as he withdrew the contents. A bloke had to enjoy a little jealousy on his own behalf.

Inside, there was a smaller, sealed brown check envelope – _Pay to the order of Mr. William Bennett_ showing through the glassine window and a letter, apparently from Giles. Proving that he did have some self control after all, Spike read the letter first, aloud.

_Spike,_

_If you’re reading this letter, it means you haven’t managed to annoy Buffy into dusting you. On the chance that you’re both still together, I’ve decided that she deserves more than a man existing out of time. With a little effort, I managed to unearth your human origins (no worries about this becoming Council knowledge – it will remain off the record unless you choose to make it public) and procure legal identity papers for you._

_I’ve also managed to make you your own ancestor, and have accessed familial funds for your use. It seems that you are the last existing Bennett of your line, meaning there is nobody to contest your inheritance._

_Additionally, the Council has decided to show it’s appreciation for our continued existence monetarily. I’ve combined the funds into a single money order in US funds, so you’ll not have trouble accessing the full amount._

_Belated as they may be, we all owe you our thanks. Xander informed me of your business plans. Hopefully the money will go a long way in making Phoenix Investigations a success, and keeping Buffy from becoming one of Los Angeles’ homeless denizens._

_You have regards from Rona and Kennedy. Willow has a personal message for you. Something about a shovel? She said Buffy will understand._

_Take care of them, Spike. Be well._

_Rupert Giles_

“Would you open up that little brown envelope and see how rich you are already?” Xander was dying of curiosity and as impatient as a kid on Christmas morning… ready to tear into that little envelope himself.

“Easy mate,” Spike said. “I’m still gobsmacked at Rupes puttin’ down kind words to me on paper.”

Buffy was just as impatient. “C’mon, Spike… I need to know if you’re gonna be able to keep me in the style I’m accustomed to.”

“Yeah, can do, pet.” He laughed as he opened the envelope and removed the check. “S’not so hard to find a small house. Trick’ll be convincing twenty under-aged bints to move in with us.”

Spike turned his attention to the check and stared at the little rectangular piece of paper – mouth agape. The check was for seven figures; not a single ‘one’ amongst the seven.

~*~

A few weeks before Spike gave up his basement apartment, the gang found a surprise waiting for them at the office. A letter addressed to Buffy was taped to the inside of the door.

Easily recognizing the handwriting, Spike asked, “So, pet… are you plannin’ on sharin’ the contents of the Poof’s letter with the rest of the class?”

Buffy began to read:

_Dear Buffy,_

_Once again I find myself in the position of apologizing to you for trying to do what’s best for you… in my opinion. I never wanted to hurt you by keeping Spike’s resurrection a secret. Most of that was his own decision. I will, however, admit to encouraging his silence._

_It’s obvious that some things aren’t and shouldn’t be under my control, and you’ve made your choices for the immediate future. I’ll try my hardest to live by your decisions._

_To show my support for your newest venture, I’ve arranged for a surprise. Please knock some sense into Spike’s over-bleached head when he tries to refuse the gesture. Hard._

_I’ve had all the windows replaced with necro-tempered glass. Now he has no excuse for sleeping the day away when he should be working hard to pull his weight._

_Phoenix Investigations is a good idea. It fills a niche vacated when I made the choice to move to Wolfram & Hart. If possible, I’ll refer the smaller cases your way. Nice to know someone is looking out for them once again._

_Good luck to you all._

_Angel_

~*~

From that point on, it didn’t take long. Money, determination, and Spike’s ability to work during the day made things happen rapid-fire; no more than a trio of months passed before Phoenix Investigations was up and running. The apartments were refurbished and decorated, with a nice cushion of money left over to tide them over until the business turned a profit.

The office was bustling – Angel had been true to his word and ferried quite a few small, _absolutely legitimate_ cases their way. Word of mouth spread through both the human and demon communities – nobody was turned away because of inability to pay for services.

Delegation of work was equally divided between Buffy, Spike and Xander. Everyone answered phones, entered cases into their computer system and at least two members went out on each and every call. Harmony and Lorne each donated a number of evening hours per week to answering phones and filing, allowing the complete team to work together when necessary.

Before long, December 23rd was upon them, and they found themselves squabbling about who was going to make the airport run to pick up Dawn. 

Spike argued that a little bit of sunshine never stopped him before. Buffy retorted that even though the car had vampire-safe glass, he couldn’t guarantee in the shade parking. Xander insisted that Dawn would be hyper as it was, and he was the calmest and most reasonable person to do the fetching.

As they continued to bicker amongst themselves, the door to the agency opened. A young woman leaned against the door, waiting to be acknowledged. After a few moments she cleared her throat, when it became obvious the employees were too caught up in their argument to notice her.

“Ahem. What does an ancient ex-universe door opening key have to do to get a little attention in this place?”

Buffy shrieked. “Dawnie!” and ran to embrace her sister. “Hey! We were just trying to figure out who was gonna be your chauffeur.” She glanced at her watch. “You’re more than two hours early,” she accused playfully.

“Yeah, well… we caught some great weather, and the connections were smooth, and I was so early I figured I’d just take a cab.” Dawn laughed. “It’s not like I’ll have to shell out any cash for a place to stay, right?”

“Don’t count on it, Bit.” Spike had walked over to Buffy’s side, a soft smile on his lips. “Sis is a regular skinflint when it comes to the budget.”

Dawn extricated herself from her sister’s embrace and molded herself to Spike. “Oh my God,” she mumbled into his shoulder, tears wetting his shirt. “You’re really, really back.”

“Who did you think you were talkin’ to on the phone, pet? A figment of your imagination?” Spike’s grin was infectious, mirrored on Buffy’s and Xander’s faces. “Didn’t call you until I was all solid again, an’ I don’t plan on revisitin’ that state again.”

“Stupid vampire. It’s just so… different. Until I saw you with my own eyes, I wasn’t going to fully believe you were back. I couldn’t. But you’re here and I’m just… just – damn it, I swore I wasn’t going to cry.”

Spike was content to let her snuggle, whispering soothing nonsense into her ear. “S’alright, Niblet. Family forgives all.” He’d missed the girl so much during their estrangement. A few pats on the shoulder, a teary wipe against his shirt and she was off to give the Dawnie-welcome to Xander.

Leaning into her very cuddly vampire, Buffy sniffed. “Our little girl’s all growed up.”

Gently pressing a kiss into her hair, Spike hugged the petite blonde closer to himself. The domesticity of the scene should have set his demon on edge – would have done so to almost any other vampire, but he could feel nothing but contentment thrumming through him.

“Oh… oh… I almost forgot!” Dawn ran to the door, practically stumbling in her haste. “I brought a surprise back with me.”

“It’s about time you remembered I was standing outside with a pile of luggage,” Andrew complained. “People were beginning to look at me funny.”

If synchronized eyebrow lifting were an Olympic sport, the gold medal would be equally shared by the Phoenix Investigations crew.

Xander moved first, clapping Andrew roughly on the shoulder and nearly sending the boy headfirst into the nearest desk. “To what do we owe the honor of your visit, oh little man in tweed?”

“Mr. Giles said it would aid in my Watchers’ training for me to see first hand your new operation in… operation, as it were,” Andrew said importantly.

Spike snorted. “Yeah, meanin’ he’d had enough of you trailin’ after him like a lost pup an’ foisted you off on us for a spell.” With a little pout, the vampire turned to Buffy. “Thought Rupert had finally turned the corner and stopped tryin’ to torture me, pet.”

“Very funny, all of you.” Dawn sighed as she caught sight of Andrew’s crestfallen expression. “Andrew is here because I invited him to share the holiday with me and my family. Don’t you remember what it’s like to be left out of the ‘in’ crowd? To be left out of _any_ crowd?” She walked over to Andrew and linked elbows, smiling at him. “C’mon, shrimp. Let’s go get the suitcases before some nut job walks off with all our clothing.”

~*~

They closed the agency for a few days - Christmas Eve through the day after, barring any emergency cases. Everyone agreed to a low-keyed, old fashioned holiday – mulled cider, eggnog, homemade ornaments, and gifts from the heart.

Buffy and Xander left the building early, with their day’s mission of procuring a tree. But on Christmas Eve, the pickings were more than slim, and the mighty hunters returned with a bedraggled pine – about five feet tall with missing limbs.

As the tree settled into the stand, the little family gathered around.

“You can almost hear the Charlie Brown music playing, can’t you?” Andrew sighed. “I mean, everyone here has taken someone who was less than perfect under their wing – and now we’ve taken this poor little tree under all of ours.”

“It’s perfect.” Dawn agreed. “And wait until you see it all decorated! We’ve got yards and yards of hand strung popcorn and cranberries. And a great big honking gold star for the top.”

Spike laughed, hugging Buffy to him. “Don’t mind playing housevamp, luv… but no way was I gonna put an angel on our tree.”

Buffy gave her favorite vampire a smack on the rump, and they all set about preparing for their company later in the evening.

A buffet table was set up, the tree trimmed, gifts laid out underneath and a cheesy fake Yule log plugged in.

Of course, Spike had to whisper in Buffy’s ear. “Your giftie has a red ribbon wrapped around it… but you won’t find it under the tree. Not to be unwrapped in mixed company, pet.”

Buffy’s pretty hazel eyes sparkled for the rest of the evening, accompanied by a soft smile that left everybody and nobody wondering just what was said.

Their company soon arrived; Willow brought a small menorah to add to the celebration. Wesley’s contribution was several magnums of vintage Bollinger champagne. Lorne and Harmony arrived bedecked with felt reindeer antlers, passing out a pair to everyone who promised _not_ to sing that evening.

Dinner was a complete success. Informal, everyone helped themselves to as much as they wanted. The champagne flowed along with the conversation, leaving them all sated and peaceful, gathered together.

One by one, they fell asleep next to their respective partners and friends, gazing into the soft glow of the false Yule log. The decorations on the little tree added a delightful and soothing aroma to the darkened room.

And Spike dreamed of celebrating his first birthday in almost two centuries with family.


End file.
